Legacy
by WalkingAlone2
Summary: 30 years after the events of The Blood of Olympus, Isabelle Johnson finds out that she is the daughter of the late Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. With this revelation, old and new foes rise to snuff out the emerging hero. Isabelle must team up with some familiar faces to survive this onslaught. AU. Reviews help me get better!
1. Chapter 1

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I do not own any Percy Jackson-related content. **

Isabelle yelped and dropped her phone on the granite countertop. It landed with a sharp _clap_ as Isabelle put her head in her hands. After a second, she straightened up and threw her hands in the air.

"Well. It's official. The polar bears are extinct," she proclaimed. She must have been a little too loud, though, since her mother flinched at the exclamation. Slowly, Isabelle's mother turned to her daughter. Her mother's eyes had always been as expressive as most people's words; they were as green and lush as any leaf on a sweet potato vine. Her eyes could easily morph from pride to dejection and each look would elicit some emotion from Isabelle.

This time, it was disappointment that Isabelle saw in her mother's eyes. Isabelle looked down at the news headline on her phone; _BREAKING: Ursus maritimus, the polar bear, is officially extinct: between climate change and humans, which is the biggest monster? _ Isabelle tasted bile at the back of her throat and slid her mother the phone. Her mother took a few seconds to crane her neck and read the headline. She then shook her head and turned away towards the counter.

After a few moments, she then turned back around and handed Isabelle a cup of tea. When Isabelle took the drink, she felt the warmth cascade through her palm and rush out to her fingers. Before long, though, that warmth turned scalding hot. Isabelle practically dropped the drink on the counter just as her mother said, "Careful. It's hot."

Mothers always seemed to have a gift for warning their children about hot foods and drinks a half second _after _the child burns themselves. Isabelle sighed and watched her mother put the teabags away. As the older woman moved, her long red hair rippled and shifted like a fire in slow motion. This was one of those times where Isabelle wished that she wasn't adopted. Her bland brown hair looked nothing like the beautiful fiery curls her mother had.

Isabelle avidly blew into the cup and could tell what flavor it was by the smell.

"Come on, Mom. Elderberry tea? You know I hate this stuff." Isabelle swore her mother did these things on purpose. Her mother walked around the counter and sat down on the other old orange stool in the kitchen. She laced her fingers as she studied Isabelle.

"You're just getting over your cold, Izzy. You have to keep treating your body with care even after you're feeling better. You're graduating from Humphrey's in less than a year; you need to learn how to take care of yourself."

Though her mother was the best person in the entire world, she seemed to be very nervous for Isabelle to graduate college. Her mother constantly called Isabelle the smartest person she ever knew, and she was confident that her daughter would get a job right upon graduation. Not just any job either; she was sure that Isabelle would start some prestigious career relevant to her Environmental Science degree. And even though her mother trusted Isabelle to save the world through sustainability, she did not trust Isabelle to remember to drink tea when she's sick.

Isabelle rhythmically tapped her chin. She caught a waft of cinnamon in the air; she made a mental note to tell her mother that she liked this essential oil. "Or…I could always just come to you and you would take care of me."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure I would let a grown woman into my home just so she can steal my money, my medicine, and my food?"

"Ten out of ten times."

Her mother's mouth twitched. "Mm. Do you know why you always hated elderberry tea?"

Isabelle hesitated and began to thumb her mood pendant. It shone a brilliant green. She remembered that that she hated elderberry tea because of something embarrassing, but she was not able to recall what actually happened.

Her mother smiled in anticipation. "You were nine years old. You were at Science Bowl practice with the rest of your group, and we were over at Dawn's house."

Isabelle's eyebrows furrowed. "Who's Dawn?"

Her mother continued as if she didn't hear the question. "But you were sick, and as always, I gave you some organic Echinacea Plus elderberry tea. You all were taking a break and were playing around with the television on in the background. A commercial came on for the exact thing you were drinking."

Isabelle's heart sunk. She remembered exactly what happened. "Thanks, Mom. I remember what happened. I don't need-"

"Let me finish."

"No, Mom, please, I-"

"Let me finish. So this boy you liked, Eugene Stratmath, saw on the commercial that the person was chasing a pair of berries all around the city. He followed them all the way to someone's apartment and watched as the berries went into a cup. He looked in the cup and it was just a pristine cup of tea. It was completely unrealistic, and it's just another example of how commercials are used to set and enforce expectations among the suspecting community-"

"Mom."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Anyway, so the person who owned the apartment that the guy broke into comes out of her bedroom and says, 'Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?' And the guy says, 'I saw these berries and I wanted to touch them.'"

Isabelle made a face. She did _not _remember the commercials being so disgusting back then.

"And so Eugene turns to you and says, 'Isabelle, can I touch your berries?' You snorted all your elderberry tea out of your nose and you ran to the bathroom. Needless to say, we had a talk with Eugene and his parents about why his actions were inappropriate, but you were _mortified._"

Isabelle rubbed her nose tenderly and muttered, "Thanks for that."

Her mother started to smile, but the smile wavered and morphed into a frown. The emotion in her eyes shifted to irritation. Her mother broke eye contact and started to pull at her red and black flannel.

Without making eye contact, she said, "I'm sorry, Izzy. I know polar bears were one of your favorite animals. You used to write short stories detailing the chronicles of Violet, the purple polar bear."

Isabelle smiled sadly; she remembered those stories. They helped her express herself. Her mother expressed herself through painting. She could even paint with her _feet. _The small log house was strewn with paintings of characters, adventures, conflicts, and new colors. Instead of a television in the living room, there was a large canvas that served as the main artistic "event". Isabelle's mother would always wake up early and paint a new piece every day. On good days, these paintings, along with the sunlight and the collection of vibrant foliage around the house, made the house look heavenly.

Isabelle, however, was definitely not born with the painting gene; she had trouble trying to paint without getting any in her eyes. Writing, though, was much easier for her. She loved to write short stories, creating weird characters that did not meet the conventional standards of "cool." She'd show her mother and would beam as her mother talked about her favorite parts, the parts that had her gripping the edge of her seat, and her favorite characters. For Isabelle's eighteenth birthday, her mother had sewn her a black sweater with a purple polar bear on it.

She loved that sweater. And she loved her mom.

Her mother sighed. "Humans seem to see nature as something that was made for them as opposed as seeing themselves as the products of nature. We are a part of this world, and yet we are destroying it."

Isabelle nodded. "People think it's easier to act like it doesn't exist than confront what we are doing. And politics nowadays is so full of people demonizing and villainizing the other party that they don't seem to realize that we're all on the same team."

Her mother stood and kissed Isabelle on the forehead. "Never change, Izzy. Remember that nature will give you the same nourishment that you give it. And you're late, young lady."

Isabelle's heart jumped. She looked at the clock. She cursed and ran out of the kitchen. She grabbed a gray sweater, struggled into a pair of blue chino pants, and put on a pair of running shoes. As she ran out her room, she snatched her computer bag and her keys. She was nearly at the front door when her mother said, "Izzy!"

Isabelle turned to see a bagel flying through the air. Isabelle had been late enough times that she's had practice with this. She caught the bagel with two fingers and blew a kiss to her mother as she stepped out the door.

The summer day illuminated the forest around Isabelle. Though it was only August, the leaves on the trees were starting to glow red, orange, and yellow. The leaves on the ground were so prominent that if Isabelle looked down, she'd think she was riding on a bed of green leaves. She looked around and found her bicycle leaning on the right side of the house. She mounted the bicycle, wedged the bagel in between her teeth, lifted herself up so she was practically standing on the pedals, and started to pedal while trying to use her fingers to comb through her hair. She bit down a bit harder on the bagel so it wouldn't break off and fall onto the ground. She tasted that it was blueberry-flavored.

Acceptable.

It was uncomfortably warm outside. Isabelle found herself sweating within minutes. However, she was someone who cycled semi-competitively for years; she was no stranger to sweat. She started to pedal harder and harder until her legs were just a circular blur of force and speed. The wind blew past her face at high speeds, prompting adrenaline and endorphins to pump through her body. Her mood began to lift as she sped out of the forest and into the town. Isabelle felt like whooping, but she would never risk losing the bagel.

Never.

Isabelle finally reached the Stockton-San Joaquin County Public Library. She locked her bike up at the rack, engulfed the bagel in two massive bites, and stepped into the library.

Her work day was filled with more of the usual. Some teenagers skipping school came in and huddled in the teen section, laughing about how cool they thought they were. Many older residents of the neighborhood visited the library, but it seemed more like a social move than a journey to find the right book to check out. The amount of gossip that Isabelle heard about how Mary's son and his marijuana problem was unbearably high.

Since her shift was quiet, she was able to begin looking up the classes and topics she was scheduled to start next semester. She also started to look up course material. Textbooks seemed ridiculously expensive, and to Isabelle, they were like lottery tickets. People pay for the chance to win something, whether it's money or college credit. Her friend Winston had once paid over $600 for textbooks, only to come down with mono in the beginning of the semester. He missed a month and a half of his classes and missed the add/drop period, so he couldn't get his money back.

Before she knew it, her shift was over. She began to put her laptop in her bag.

"No…no…no."

Isabelle looked up to see a child who looked to be about nine years old. He was in the comic book section and he had his hands pressed to his temples. Isabelle had to fight the urge to laugh; that child was too small to be so stressed out about something. He looked like a forty-year-old man struggling to figure out what to get his partner for Christmas. She left her post behind the desk and came up to the little guy. The kid had dirty blonde hair and looked up to her as she bent down beside him.

"What do we have here?"

The kid exhaled in exasperation. "I can't decide if I want a Superman or a Green Lantern comic book. It's the hardest decision I've ever made."

Isabelle took a shaky breath so she wouldn't chuckle. However, she looked at him and saw tears welling up in his eyes. It seemed like he had a long day today. She kneeled next to him and tried for the bravest smile she could put on.

"Okay. Let's do this. Who is more powerful between the two?"

"Well…I think Superman. But Green Lantern has a cool ring."

Isabelle pulled the _Superman _comic book. It was ripping at the seams, indicating that it was the more popular book. "What can Green Lantern do?"

The kid thought for a second. "He can make anything with his mind!"

Isabelle made her mouth into a perfect _o_. "Anything?! Can he make me some dinner? I'm hungry."

She rubbed her stomach and made a funny face. The kid laughed, making Isabelle's heart warm. "Okay. So, if Green Lantern can do anything, then why is this even a question? Choose Green Lantern!"

He didn't seem sold. He absent-mindedly rolled his gray shirt up from the bottom so his belly was exposed to the comic books. "Well, if Green Lantern can do anything, where's the _conflict_? That's what makes stories cool."

This time, Isabelle laughed. "Where's the conflict?! You sound like a comic book master! Would you rather be Superman or Green Lantern?"

"Hmmm…Superman!"

"I think you'd make a great Superman. _Superman _it is, then." Isabelle handed the kid the book with a smile. The kid smiled back, but then seemed to frown in confusion.

"Did you already know which one I was going to pick when you came up to me?"

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. This kid was _way _more insightful than she thought.

"Yeah, well…you're wearing a Superman shirt, so I imagined that's what you would pick."

Baffled, the kid looked down at his shirt and studied it as if he was seeing it for the first time. He then exploded into laughter. His laugh was infectious, bringing a grin onto Isabelle's face. She clapped her hands softly. "Okay, shall we check you out then?"

The kid gave a big nod and the two of them walked to the library desk. Isabelle checked out the book and told him that it would be due next Saturday. The kid nodded and skipped away. Isabelle grabbed her bag and got ready to leave when an older woman approached the counter. She looked to be about seventy years old, and yet she was wearing a suit that was perfectly fitted to her form. Isabelle eyed this character warily for a second, then brought out her customer service voice.

"Hi! Welcome to the Stockton-San Joaquin County public library! How may I help you?"

The woman stood in front of her for a second too long, and then stretched her face in an unnatural smile. "You can't."

Isabelle blinked. "Excuse me? May I help you?"

The woman maintained her smile and spoke through the grin, "No. That was very cute, what you did for that boy. I know you were just getting off your shift."

Isabelle exhaled. Her stomach was doing somersaults. "Well, he was a little cutie. And he just wanted someone to help him with that big decision of his. I love kids, so I'm always happy to help them. Even if it's at the end of my shift."

The woman kept her body still, but she seemed to glide closer to the counter. Isabelle backed up and kept her eyes on the woman. The strange non-customer cocked their head and said, "You look just like your father."

The hairs on Isabelle's arms stood up and the sweat on her palms started to accumulate. She tried for a confident smile. "Oh, unfortunately, my father passed away before I was born. I never knew him."

Isabelle didn't know why she was telling this woman this, but all she knew was that she may be in danger. The woman started to laugh gruesomely, with saliva spurting out her smile with each heave of laughter. Her eyes were no longer focused on anything in particular.

"Oh, sweetie," she crooned. "I'm glad he's dead."

**Hope you all liked this chapter! Thank you for your time :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I do not own any Percy Jackson-related content.**

Isabelle blinked. This woman just said that she was _glad _that her father was dead.

What kind of monster would say something like that? Was she trying to antagonize her? What was her motive?

Why does she have on a _suit_? Isabelle felt sweat form on her forehead as she turned to her co-worker, Ethel.

"Hey, Ethel? Can I have some help over here?" Isabelle hated how desperate and shaky her voice sounded. Unfortunately, not only was Ethel on the other side of the long, semi-circular table, but she had her headphones in. She was slightly swaying to the music, which meant that she was listening to anything from Frank Sinatra to Beyoncé. Ethel had a very diverse music selection, so Isabelle learned a few months ago when Ethel forgot to plug her headphones in all the way.

The old woman in front of Isabelle continued to seethe. She then slammed her hands on the counter, an action that scared Isabelle into a standing position. Isabelle's vision started to go double. She became hyper-aware of the scents in the air and how bright the teal blue of the back wall was. The usually warm air started to become unbearably warm, like her tea from earlier this morning. The air became thick with anxiety.

Isabelle clutched her bag out of simultaneous fear and anger.

"Ma'am, I am going to have to ask you leave."

The woman immediately replied, "I am going to have to stay until my job is done."

Isabelle noticed marble of the counter beginning to crack under the woman's grip. Shatter lines began to snake their way towards Isabelle. Without breaking eye contact from this seemingly impossible feat of strength, Isabelle said slowly, "What…do you…want? Why are you here?"

The woman stopped squeezing and adjusted the cuffs on her old lady suit. "Well, I'm stalling you of course."

"Stalling?" Isabelle wondered if this old woman was part of an organized theft of the library. They hadn't had one of those in nearly seven months, though, and Isabelle was sincerely hoping that this would not break their streak. They were almost at 205 days without a robbery.

Isabelle dragged her eyes to the woman's cuffs, and then to the woman's waist area to check for the imprint of a weapon. If she got robbed or shot by an elderly woman, she'd never trust old people again.

She slowly put her hands up. "Ma'am, I don't want any trouble. If you're planning a robbery, I can promise you that the police will be here faster than you can get out the parking lot. They're right across the street."

The woman looked at her watch and waited a few seconds. She then readjusted her tie. "You're feisty. But fortunately, my job here is done. Have a good day, sweetie."

The woman then turned on her heel and promptly walked down the spiral staircase to the exit. Isabelle let out a huge exhale and nearly lost her balance. Luckily, she grabbed onto the chair to steady herself.

"You okay, sweetie?" Isabelle heard Ethel's strained voice behind her. Isabelle turned around and gave a quick nod.

"Yeah, thanks, Ethel. For all your help." Isabelle immediately regretted the amount of sarcasm that was injected into her words.

However, Ethel seemed to be oblivious. "No problem, Isabella."

"It's Isabelle," Isabelle noted with irritation. She couldn't get her mind off of the weird old woman and how she was trying to stall her for some reason. Isabelle switched her bag to her other hand, wiped her sweat on her pants, and exited from behind the desk. Her heart was beating.

_Please don't let her still be in here, _she thought to herself.

Isabelle descended the stairs slowly while stretching her neck to try and see over the railing. With no sign of the woman, Isabelle quickened her steps and headed to the main desk on the bottom floor. Her co-worker, Fernando, stood about ten feet behind the desk. When he noticed her approaching, he gave her a quick smile. His kind eyes and his…round figure always made her think of Santa Claus. Smile lines crinkled around his eyes and he was filing returned books away while making eye contact with Isabelle.

"Good afternoon, Isabelle. Heading out for the day?" He looked at her from behind his glasses, and she couldn't bear to lie to him.

"Yeah, I'm headed out for the day. It was an all right shift, save for a very scary encounter upstairs."

Fernando frowned and set the books he was filing on the floor. He moved closer to the desk as if Isabelle was a customer. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Isabelle took a breath and leaned forward. She lowered her voice to a whisper as she kept her head on a swivel. "There was an old woman who was wearing a suit. A _suit. _It was a pretty good suit, though, in all honesty. There was some linen and...anyway, she comes up to the desk and she refuses to leave. Within a span of two minutes, she has told me that she's glad my father has passed away, she cracked the counter of the upstairs desk, and she told me she refused to leave until her 'job is done.' What does that even mean?"

Fernando looked around as well. "That sounds horrible. My stars, are you okay?"

Isabelle straightened up and looked towards the front door. "Yeah, I'm okay. It was just weird and I thought she was an accomplice in an attempt to rob us."

"Again?" Fernando's voice sounded slightly exasperated. Isabelle felt bad dropping this on him, because he had an extensive reserve of patience. He was always one of the best employees the library had during summer camp seasons, because he always seemed to have a smile for everyone who took the time to visit the library.

Isabelle nodded. "But she didn't rob us, I don't think. Have you seen anything?"

Fernando opened a draw underneath the counter and pulled out a blue lollipop. "Here. I hope this makes you feel better. Take off tomorrow, too, make sure you feel better. And I have not seen anything, but I will keep an eye out and keep the police on speed-dial. No one is stealing from this place today."

Isabelle felt like one of the campers when she took the lollipop. Fernando was _so _awesome. "Thanks, Fernando. Call me if you need anything."

Fernando gave a kindly smile. "Don't tell your mother that I gave you a lollipop! Also, say hi to her for me."

Isabelle turned and waved to him as she walked out. She took her phone out, set her bag down, and made a call to her mother while she unlocked her bike from the rack. The call went straight to voicemail and Isabelle ended the call. Her heart began to beat faster.

Her mother _always _had her phone on.

Isabelle called again frantically, and this time, waited for the voicemail beep to sound. "Hey, Mom! Just calling to tell you this wild story of what happened, but there's something wrong with your phone. Getting very scared. Thank you for the bagel! I shouldn't have said anything about the…the bagel, so never mind, but please, uh, call me back when you get this message. Just want to make sure you're okay."

Isabelle finally freed her bike from the rack, slung the strap of her bag around her left shoulder, and began to peddle as hard as she could. Her heart was beating quickly enough to match the cadence of her pedaling. The wind blew by her face, but she didn't feel any happiness or exhilaration. She knew that it was crazy, but that weird, super strong old woman really got to her.

Isabelle zoomed into the forest. She was going so quickly that her heavy bag was blowing behind her in the wind. She heard the quick crunches of the green-brown leaves she was rolling over as she was riding. Soon, she reached the house and her heart dropped to her stomach.

There were police cars and an ambulance around the front of the house.

There were medics rolling a gurney into the ambulance.

Isabelle had trouble seeing who was on the gurney. That is, until she saw a flash of bright red hair.

_Mom. _

Isabelle got off her bike and let it fall. She dropped her bag and sprinted towards the gurney. When she was ten feet away, she was blocked by a wall of black. It was a police officer, who held his palm out to her as if to say, _Nope. No way. Stay back. _

"Stay back, hon," he said in a commanding voice that seemed rehearsed. Isabelle straightened up. She was tall, nearly five foot nine, and her height usually intimidated people. But this guy seemed to be well over six feet. His sunglasses reflected none of the forest's colors.

Isabelle tried to manage the anger welling up in her as she looked past the man and at her house. She then focused her attention on the officer.

"My name is _not _'hon.' It's Isabelle. This is MY house and THAT-"

She pointed at the ambulance that was now closing its back doors. "-is my mother! Now let me go!"

The officer was about to respond when a woman of about the same height came up to him. She was dressed in a dress shirt tucked into dress pants, and a black peacoat. She seemed to be a plainclothes police officer. She put her hand on the officer's shoulder, and whispered, "I got this, Jim. Go help out Forensics with the DNA sampling."

The officer's sunglasses seemed to glint in disapproval as he stepped away. Isabelle saw the ambulance pulled away onto the dirt road in front of the house and drove away. Isabelle watched the ambulance go longingly, and then turned back to the woman.

The woman looked down at Isabelle. She had charcoal-gray eyes that caught Isabelle off-guard. They were intense, and Isabelle realized that this was the first time she had ever met another person with gray eyes. Isabelle's eyes were always a dark gray, like thunderstorm clouds. According to her mother, her eyes would move like a tornado when she was thinking about something serious. Isabelle hated her eye color, though, she always wanted blue or green eyes, eyes that were more approachable.

However, this cop didn't seem intimidated in the least by Isabelle. She didn't even blink.

"Detective Pallas. I'm going to need you to leave the premises."

"No. That's my mother right there."

Looking at this detective's gray eyes, she felt her body start to itch. The wind began to blow harder, and for a second, it seemed like the two of them were the only ones out there among the trees. But Isabelle didn't flinch. She maintained eye contact and she felt her face gradually tighten in irritation. After a moment, the officer's gray eyes softened just slightly. She leaned forward so her mouth was near Isabelle's ear and muttered, "Your mother should be all right, she was attacked by a Ker."

_A Ker? _

"What's a Ke-"

Detective Pallas continued, lowering her voice to a near whisper. "Though their poison is usually deadly, it can only be cured by the power of at least a minor deity. Apollo convinced me to help him save his favorite Oracle, so we created this medicine. It contains some ambrosia and some divine Olympian honey in it. Make sure she takes it by tonight."

_What is going on? _

"Wait, Apollo? A minor deity? What is going on, who are—"

Detective Pallas took Isabelle's hand and slipped her a tiny bottle. Inside the bottle was a glowing golden liquid. "She will be at St. Joseph's Medical Center. Take your bike and go there. I will have this area cleared out by tonight."

Isabelle had no idea what was going on. But looking at Detective Pallas, she believed that she was telling the truth. Isabelle took a step back and began to jog to her bag.

After a few steps, though, she turned and looked at Detective Pallas. "What is going on? I need some answers."

Detective Pallas put her hands in her pockets and bore into Isabelle's eyes. Pallas' gray eyes seemed to almost glow. "I know this is a lot. And I know you must be confused. Be careful in your search for answers. They are all around you, and once you know where to look, you will be forever changed. You may never be able to return to the way you were."

Isabelle blinked and swallowed. She nodded and went to her bag. She put the liquid in it and slung the bag over her left shoulder. She turned to look at Detective Pallas one more time, but there was no one there anymore. A few leaves just blew around the area she was in.

This was definitely the weirdest day she has had in a long time. Isabelle then ran to her bicycle and turned on the GPS on her phone. She took one last look at her house, took a breath, and started pedaling away.


	3. Chapter 3

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I do not own any Percy Jackson-related content.**

She followed the GPS through the forest, out onto the streets, past the library, through a few grocery store parking lots, and down a long road to finally get to the hospital. By the time she was there, though, it was dusk. The summer air had now turned a bit cool, helping Isabelle relax a little. Even though her mother was in the hospital, her conversation with Detective Pallas brought her a new level of resolve.

She approached the front building of St. Joseph's Medical Center. The front wall of the building was adorned with rectangular panel windows that refracted the light from the inside. Isabelle walked in and headed for the front desk. She bent down to the table, expecting to ask about when visiting hours were. However, the desk assistant seemed to be in a weird trance.

"Hey. Hi. Hello?" Isabelle waved her hand in front of the glass and even knocked on it to get his attention. However, he was not paying any attention. His name tag said, _Brad. _Brad seemed to be looking at nothing in particular, and his eyes were glazed over.

Isabelle frowned. She hoped he was okay. She looked up at the cameras in the corners of the room, only to see that they were turned away from the front desk. Her heart slowed a bit and she slowly turned to the common area. Isabelle had seen enough movies and television scenes to know that deactivated cameras meant something was going down. However, when she looked at the common area, she did not see any ninjas or henchmen. Instead, she just saw an empty waiting room. The walls were white and blue, littered with pamphlets in those weird wall bucket things. She wished there was a pamphlet that said, _Did you just watch your mother be carried away in an ambulance? Did you almost fight an elderly woman today? Here's what you need to know. _

Unfortunately, though, there's no how-to guide for life.

Isabelle turned back to the desk to see a list in the desk assistant's hand. The list seemed to have the locations of all the new patients checked into the medical center. Isabelle thought it may have been a bit too convenient, and part of her felt like Detective Pallas had something to do with this. She seemed to be more than she let on.

She saw her mother's name on the list.

_Rachel Elizabeth Johnson- 4E. _

Isabelle kept her eyes on the desk assistant as she crept towards the double doors. She then quickly burst through them, trying to find Room 4E. She luckily found it fairly quickly and knocked on the door. It was painfully silent for a moment until she heard a quiet, "Come in."

Isabelle's heart leapt as she tore open the door. There her mother was, her red hair swept over her left shoulder. The walls were an emotionless beige, except for the white sheets her mother was on. She had an IV in her arm and she was hooked up to a few other unfamiliar machines. Her mother's eyes focused on Isabelle for a second, and then widened in recognition.

"Izzy! Come here, baby." Her mother opened her arms and Isabelle felt tears welling at the back of her eyes. She dropped her bag and hugged her mother.

Isabelle meant to say, "I'm so glad you're okay." Instead, it came out as a "Om so mmm mmm mmmm," as she was burrowed in her mother's shoulder.

Somehow, her mother understood.

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay. You know they tried to have me on pain medication, but not your old lady," she promised. Isabelle remembered that her mother tried to stay away from morphine and any other drugs that would alter her state of consciousness. Apparently, she had some pretty trippy experiences when she was younger.

Her mother released Isabelle from the hug and looked at her for a second. Isabelle's heart dropped.

There were deep red cuts all over her mother's neck.

Anger surged through Isabelle's blood as she squeezed out the words, "What. Happened."

Her mother reached for Isabelle's hand. Her voice was scratchy and tired. "I had just gotten home from the Titans art program, and first off, let me say that I was actually having a pretty damn good day today."

Isabelle knew that her mother, when she wasn't teaching art, was the head of an arts-centered youth program for inner city youth who come from low socioeconomic statuses. Her mother believed that these children had hidden artistic talents and that exploring them would provide a positive, encouraging area for the children to grow and thrive instead of being on the streets. She was never scared of them like other older women were; her mother consistently bragged about how she once threw a hairbrush at the head of a mob. She hit him in the eye. To top it all off, her mother had so much inherited money from _her _father, that she managed to find a way to not charge any acceptance or registration fee for the program.

Her mom was a bad-ass.

Isabelle squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you had a good day, Mom. Go on. What happened."

Her mother took a breath and looked to the ceiling. "I came home and I had a feeling that someone was in the house. Instead of going through the front door, I decided to go through the back. I heard some movement in the living room and I knew that there someone in there. I crept up the stairs, but you know how much those old stairs creaked. I heard them approaching quickly and I ran upstairs into my room."

Isabelle found it hard to breathe. It was difficult to hear about her mother in trouble. However, though her mother's voice sounded ragged, her eyes were bright and full of life.

"I grabbed the first thing I could fine and when they came through the door, I gave them a fight. They got me, though, and choked the life out of me. I was almost passed out, but then somehow I got away. I called the police and now I'm here."

Isabelle squeezed her mother's hand and kissed it. "Mom, I'm so sorry. I should've been there."

Her mother carefully slipped her hand out of Isabelle's grasp and combed through Isabelle's hair. "Shhh. There was nothing you could have done and you came all the way here to see little old me? I'm the luckiest mama in the world."

Isabelle let a tear fall. She was going to find who did this.

As if her mother could tell what she was thinking, she began to scratch her daughter's hair. "Don't do anything rash, okay? You are just like your father sometimes."

Isabelle remembered the words of the creepy old woman.

_You look just like your father. I'm glad he's dead. _

"Mom?" Isabelle's hand was trembling. The room was starting to get cold and she could feel goosebumps protruding from her arms.

"Hmm?" Her mother once again grabbed her hand.

Isabelle remembered the weird drink Pallas gave her. She stood up and retrieved the bottle from her bag and brought it to her seat by her mother's bed. However, she did not sit down quite yet. Her mother looked at the drink and then back at Isabelle. "There was a woman today. An old woman who was super creepy. She wouldn't stop smiling, she cracked the desk at the library with her bare hands, and she talked about my father as if she knew him. Well, not just knew him…but seemed to hate him."

Her mother stiffened up, and Isabelle noticed a micro-expression of panic flash on her mother's face. That expression quickly changed to sadness. Isabelle's mother blinked, and then closed her eyes as she leaned back in her bed. Isabelle knew that talking about her birth-parents was hard for her mother, but she always seemed to have a harder time talking about Isabelle's birth-father.

"Your father…was a soldier. He had this black hair that always seemed like it was bed hair. He had eyes that made you feel like you were out on the ocean. They were the kindest eyes I've ever seen. He was always so brave, but sometimes he was dim-witted. He'd annoy you right up to your limit and then he would smile at you. And that smile would make you feel like it was summer again. He was...beautiful, but this beauty didn't come from just his looks. He was a beautiful person."

Her mother opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. "He was always good. He always tried to do the right thing, even if it was hard. He would risk everything to save one person. Even if they were an enemy. He served for years, fighting to protect not only this country, but the world from threats that most people will never know about. In his…adventures, he sometimes ran into some bad people. Him being a good person, whenever he saw bad things, he would try to stop them. And that would make enemies."

She turned so she locked eyes with Isabelle. Her mother's eyes were red and raw. "Whoever you talked to today at the library was one of those bad people. You need to stay away from her and people like her as much as you can."

Her mother leaned forward so she was sitting up and gripping Isabelle's hand. Her eyes were filled with visceral worry and her grip was like a vice. "_They will kill you. _You need to make sure you don't go back to that library over the next few days. I've already made a few calls to some old friends of mine and they will be in town to investigate and clear out the area. You stay here. Do you hear me?"

Isabelle looked down to the floor. She mumbled an, "Okay."

"Do you hear me?!"

Isabelle met her mother's eyes. "Yeah, Mom."

Her mother leaned back as if she was satisfied with that answer.

Isabelle eyed her mother. This is the first time that she felt like her mother was keeping secrets from her. "Mom, are we in danger?"

Her mother thought for a second and nodded. "Yes. That's why you need to stay out of trouble, Izzy. Just stay here and wait for my friends to get here."

"Who was that who came to my job? She scared me."

Her mother shook her head and bit her lip. "I don't know, baby."

Isabelle blinked. She trusted her mother with her life, and if her mother says that her birth-father was a good person, then that's what he was. But Isabelle thought it was kind of weird that people would come back from her birth-father's past and try to hurt her. Why would they want to hurt her if her birth-father was dead?

She didn't know much about him besides him being in some kind of special wing of the military with her birth-mother. Apparently, both of her birth-parents had been decorated heroes. She didn't know much about her adoptive mother's past either, so whenever she heard bits and pieces about it, she was always shocked at how bad-ass her mother was when she was younger.

It was quiet for the next few seconds as her mother closed her eyes and seemed to sink into a half-sleep/half-awake state.

"Wait, so Mom, you were in the military too? With my birth parents?"

Her mother chuckled and stretched. "Let's just say I was more of a consultant. They were the ones out there on the field. Sometimes, I helped make the strategies, but whenever I saw your parents in action, I was in awe. The benefits I got from that helped us get the house we have today."

"Huh. Our house is cute. Maybe I should join the military."

"You absolutely will not."

Isabelle laughed and her mother smiled. For the first time during their conversation, Isabelle saw her mother's warmth shine through again.

Her mother coughed and said raspily, "You can save the world in a different way. By saving using that degree to salvage what's left of the environment. You'll be great."

Isabelle looked up bashfully. "Thanks, Mom."

Her mother looked at the bottle in Isabelle's hands. "Is that for me?"

Isabelle looked down at the glowing golden liquid. She had almost forgotten about it. She handed it to her. mother, who took it hesitantly.

Her mother eyed it warily. "Who gave you this?"

Isabelle explained. "Yeah. So, when I got back to the house, one of the detectives gave this to me and told me to give this to you because of the poison. Apparently, it was the poison from some…beast-thing? And only she and Apollo could make something for you to cure the poison? I'm not quite sure what she was talking about."

Her mother uncapped the bottle and held it to her nose. She then raised an eyebrow. "What was the detective's name?"

"Detective Pallas. She had these striking gray eyes. She told me to make sure you drink this tonight."

Her mother looked like she was fighting to hold back a smile. "Detective Pallas, huh? Well, baby girl, you just met someone who knew your father back in the day. She knows quite a lot about a lot of things and I trust her."

Isabelle couldn't believe it. "Wait, Mom, you knew her too?"

Her mother _mhm_'d as she drank the entire bottle. She finished it and her body shivered a bit. She cleared her throat and admitted, "Yeah. Met her once or twice in my life."

Nothing was making sense for Isabelle. "What about Apollo? Who is that? Someone else from the military? Did you all use code names from Greek mythology?"

Her mother gave a yawn. "Something like that. Don't forget to take some…tea…"

And her mother was out. Isabelle watched her mother slip off into a light sleep. She looked down to see that she was still holding her mother's hand. Isabelle then looked around to see if there were any nurses passing by, and then put her head down on the hospital bed to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I do not own any Percy Jackson-related content.**

Isabelle woke to a room shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blinking lights of the monitors. The light of the sky was shining through the blinds at the far end of the room, capturing the half-awake Isabelle for second. The sky was a beautiful canvas of colors; it was black at the top and transitioned to a dark blue and finally to a deep purple as it fell towards the horizon.

The _beep, beep _of the medical equipment cut through the silence of the room. Isabelle ripped her eyes away from the window and studied her mother. Her quiet, quick snores indicated that she was still asleep. Isabelle had to stifle laughter; her mother was snoring the same way she always thought chipmunks would snore. Her mother's head was cocked to the left as if she was playing dead. Her hand was still gripping Isabelle's like a stuffed animal.

But that wasn't the weirdest part.

Isabelle glanced down to see that there was a faint light shining from underneath the thin hospital blanket. Isabelle reached her hand out and hesitated before peeling the cover away. When she did, she saw that her mother's arms were glowing golden.

More specifically, Isabelle noticed that her mother's veins were glowing like someone had injected sunlight into her bloodstream. Isabelle's heart started to pound as she checked her mother's pulse and her breathing. To her relief, it seemed that the light was not actively hurting her; instead, her mother seemed to be breathing healthily, even if her pulse was beating at a slightly lower rate than normal. Isabelle looked at the empty bottle on the mahogany desk by her mother's bed. There was still a little golden liquid left in it, but it seemed that her mother had drank most of it.

_This light was the same light that came from the jar that the Pallas woman gave me, _she thought to herself. Detective Pallas had given her a mysterious liquid and instructed her to administer it to her mother. When Isabelle had recounted the story to her mother, once she described Pallas, her mother said that she trusts Pallas and drank the entire thing.

Who was she?

Isabelle leaned forward to study the light. She had never seen science quite like this; it was like something that she'd see in superhero movies.

Like magic.

Isabelle followed the golden light up her mother's body to see that it stopped at the bottom of her neck. Isabelle rubbed her eyes and leaned a little bit closer. As she squinted her eyes in the dark, she was able to see that the golden energy was slowly creeping up towards her mother's esophagus area.

_What happens when this reaches her brain, _Isabelle asked herself as she stood up. Would her mother be completely healed and wake up? Was Pallas just a cover for something worse? Could Pallas have been working with that old woman from the library? The…Ker?

Isabelle pulled out her phone to try to look up what a Ker was, but her phone was out of power. Isabelle looked around and fixated on the sky again. She suddenly remembered Pallas' words.

_I will have this area cleared out by tonight._

What did she mean by that? By "this area," Isabelle assumed that Pallas meant the house. However, the hospital was pretty cleared as well, and she had said "this area" after she had told Isabelle where her mother was. If Pallas was trying to kill her or her mother, why would she let Isabelle go? Why would Pallas tell Isabelle where her mother was?

_Don't do anything rash, _Isabelle's mother had warned her. But she needed to get back to the house; she couldn't shake the feeling that Pallas was telling her to come home. Isabelle remembered that Pallas told her that there were answers all around her. Maybe there were some answers at the house.

_Sorry, Mom. _

Isabelle got up from the hospital bed. As she got up, she felt that her muscles were faintly sore in the same way her body felt after a particularly intense workout. Her legs seemed to both resist her and propel her as she stretched for a second. She loved that feeling.

Isabelle kissed her mother on the forehead. She mentally promised her mother that she would be back and moved towards the door. Isabelle picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. With one last glance at her mother, she could only see a silhouette of a person on the bed, with golden streams of light slithering through her veins. Isabelle thought about how she'd feel if she saw this as a nurse, and jogged to the bed. She took the thin blanket and pulled it over her mother's body.

Unfortunately, though dampened a bit, the golden light still shone through. Isabelle thought for a second, dropped her bag, and then took off her gray sweater with a gargantuan yawn. She draped the sweater on her mother, and the golden light was no longer visible (except for the streams slowly coming up her mother's neck). Satisfied, Isabelle picked up the bag, readjusted her navy blue T-shirt, then stepped outside the door.

Once she stepped out, the automatic lights turned on, nearly blinding Isabelle. Annoyed, she covered her eyes until her vision cleared up. The only thing bothering her more than how bright it was…was how much electricity this building must be burning through. Once her vision cleared up, Isabelle looked down and saw that with her dark blue shirt and her blue pants, she looked like a nurse herself.

Disappointed in herself for the fashion choice and the hospital for the sustainability choice, Isabelle re-traced her footsteps back towards the front entrance of the facility. She left the intensive care unit and entered the lobby. It looked different than it did last night; the waiting room was now well-lit and there were a few people sleeping in the chairs of the lobby. Two older women were looking at their phones, whispering about what the difference between "Lyfts" and taxis were. The white and blue of the lobby walls seemed brighter than they were last night.

Isabelle passed by the desk where sleepy Brad was at, but instead saw a security guard and another desk assistant behind the table. The former was on his phone while the latter was writing something down on her clipboard. The desk assistant had a name tag that said, _Lauren. _The security guard was a big guy, but not in a muscular way. He was just big.

He lazily looked at Isabelle as Lauren looked up from her work. She narrowed her eyes as if she noticed something fishy, and then brightened up with a smile and alert eyes. "Good morning, ma'am! Are you a discharged patient or a visitor?"

Isabelle opened her mouth, closed it, and cleared her throat. "A visitor."

She was embarrassed about how raspy her voice sounded. Lauren set the clipboard aside and logged onto the computer in front of her. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a fairly perfect bun, and her nails looked freshly manicured as they sped across the keyboard.

"Okay. Excuse me one moment; I just have to double check something. You just came out of the ICU, and we have no record of any visitors last night. We can't be too careful after someone tried to smother a patient with a pillow while he was in intensive care. Turned out she was his wife and she was mad because she found out about the mistress. It was quite a day."

The security guard glanced up and smiled. "Yo. What?!"

Lauren gave a little chuckle. "I'll tell you the whole story later, Mike. Can I have your first and last name, ma'am?"

Isabelle blinked. "Excuse me?"

Lauren repeated, "Can I have your first and last name?"

Isabelle started to run through fake names so she wouldn't have any of this traced back to her. Isabelle knew that Pallas had something to do with this hospital being easy to get _in_ to, but she was annoyed that it was so hard to get out of it. She must have hesitated for a second too long, since the security guard set aside his phone and sat up a bit. Lauren furrowed her brow, but her smile was unwavering.

"Isabella…Jackson." Jackson was always her go to last name if she found herself in a pickle. Her faux first name could have used some work though, it was a little bit on the nose.

She watched as Lauren scanned the database on the computer. She was humming something that sounded suspiciously like, "I Shot The Sherriff."

Lauren stopped her humming and gave a long _hmmm _before straightening up and making eye contact with Isabelle. "Sorry, no one by that name is checked in. Did you arrive yesterday?"

Isabelle nodded as she eyed the security cameras. They were now trained on the desk. Everything seemed back to normal.

Great.

"Okay, let me check the written records for yesterday. Maybe there was a mix-up in the system," Lauren said, more to herself than Isabelle. Isabelle remembered Brad knocked out at the desk.

As Lauren was checking the records, Isabelle slowly started to step away as she pulled her water bottle from her bag. However, there was no fooling Mike. He tacitly shook his head at her, and Isabelle stopped creeping away.

Lauren looked up at Isabelle. "Ms. Jackson, did you sign in yesterday?"

Isabelle gave a nervous laugh. She noticed that Lauren's eyes seemed to already know the truth. Isabelle tried for a smile. Her mouth was dry. "Yeah, um…I didn't sign in yesterday. This guy named Brad was at the desk and he was asleep, so I just…walked…in…"

As Isabelle was saying this out loud, she realized how bad it sounded. Lauren inhaled and looked at Mike. Mike stood up as Lauren said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, you're going to have to stay here while I call the proper authorities. Who was the patient you went to visit?"

Isabelle bounced on her tiptoes. She couldn't stay here; she may get arrested or have to endure questioning by the police. She needed to get back to the house for some inexplicable reason; something was calling her there.

"I don't have time for this, I have to go." Isabelle used her last bounce on her tiptoes to erupt into a sprint. As soon as she moved from the desk, Lauren picked up the phone and began to dial.

Isabelle poured the contents of her water bottle on the ground, so when Mike jumped the desk and ran towards her, he slipped and slid right past her. He crashed into a pamphlet holder, resulting in a screech of pain. Isabelle clung her bag close to herself as she pushed her way out of the revolving doors.

_Sorry, Mike. _

Isabelle looked towards the side of the building, where she had dropped her bike off last night.

It was gone.

Isabelle cursed and continued running.

She sprinted until she noticed a car that said had a neon blue _Lyft _icon on the side. Isabelle had gained respect for Lyft once they bought out Uber and transitioned their entire taxi service into using completely electric cars. Though electricity is a cleaner and cheaper energy source, some people in her classes argue that electric cars have just as bad of an impact as gas-fueled cars.

_At least they tried_, she thought to herself.

Isabelle hopped into the car as she heard sirens in the distance. An older gentleman with skin the color of caramel, straight black hair and honey-colored eyes turned and pointed to Isabelle. "Mylene?"

Isabelle remembered the older woman talking about Lyft in the lobby.

_Sorry, Mylene, _she thought to herself. "Yes, that's me."

The driver nodded and looked at his phone. "All right, and we're headed to Seven Springs Assisted Living Facility?"

Isabelle caught her breath and lay on the seat of the car. "No, no, um, can you take me to 8201 Old Seneca Place, Stockton, California, 95201?"

The driver turned back to Isabelle. "Ma'am, changing destinations is going to be extra. And what was the address again?"

Isabelle noticed police cars pull up to the front of the hospital. Her heart pounded as she reached into her bag and gave the driver a twenty-dollar bill. "Just drive, and I'll direct you."

The driver nodded promptly and pulled away from the hospital. As he drove, Isabelle directed him down the long road, past a few grocery stores, past the library, and to the street that led to the dirt path to her house. Isabelle gave him another twenty-dollar bill and silently thanked Fernando for signing off on her timesheet a few weeks ago.

"Thanks, man. Can you go back to the hospital and pick up two kind-looking old ladies? One had a Lakers jersey on."

The driver blinked. "Wait, so you are not Mylene?"

Isabelle got out the car and slung her bag over her shoulder. "No, I _am _Mylene, but she's also named…Mylene. Please just go pick her up, I feel terrible. Take her to the Seven Springs Assisted Facility, please."

She then closed the door and walked around to the driver's side of the door. The driver shook his head and quickly rolled his window down. His face tightened in irritation. "You cannot steal rides from people! I'm going to have to-"

"I'll give you five stars, a glowing review, and twenty extra dollars."

"Forty."

Isabelle narrowed her eyes as the driver stared her down. "Twenty-five."

The driver thought for a second and stared out the passenger window. He then looked back at Isabelle. "Thirty."

"Deal." Isabelle gave him thirty dollars and an extra five for dealing with her shenanigans, and watched him drive off. She could have broken into a sprint when he confronted her about stealing the ride, and he would never have caught her. Isabelle knew these woods like the back of her hand. However, she felt bad enough ruining Lauren's shift and hurting Mike.

Isabelle headed down the dirt path. The sky was now a red-golden and birds were starting to tweet their morning calls. The dark green leaves crunched under her feet, and Isabelle almost missed walking through the woods. If this walk was under different circumstances, she may have enjoyed the change of pace; she usually biked through the woods either to work or to school. Going at such high speeds, she usually rarely got a chance to appreciate the beauty of the forest.

The forest was beautiful. The dark brown tree trunks stretched towards the sky like they had just woken up as well. Though she heard the birds, she didn't see any around the area. As she walked, the wind cut through the forest and through her confidence, making her shiver from both frigidity and anxiety. Isabelle had a bad feeling as she continued down the forest.


	5. Chapter 5

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I do not own any Percy Jackson-related content.**

Isabelle finally arrived at the house after what seemed like hours. Their house always looked more like an old log cabin than a traditional house, surrounded by grass and forest. For as long as Isabelle could remember, the house looked to be a few seconds from completely falling apart. The wooden panes of the house were always uneven and almost slanted. Over the past couple of years, a large collection of green leaves had started growing on the right side of the , her mother would always say that the house would stay together by the will of the winds and the forces above.

A few tiny makeshift benches (that Isabelle had cut and made from log wood a few years ago) decorated the "front lawn." Long, slender trees surrounded the house in the rough shape of a capital _G_. The small windows were covered with vines.

She stepped through the grass, trees, and leaves and pulled open the door. Though it was quaint, the house was usually cozy and warm, even in inclement weather. Whatever day Isabelle was having, she knew she could come back to the house and de-stress. To her, that is what made it a home for her. She thought she knew the house like the back of her hand.

She didn't recognize it when she stepped inside.

As she entered the home, she saw that the usually organized chaos of paintings in the living room/kitchen area was now just violent chaos. The beautiful paintings her mother made were all either ripped in half or looked like they were chewed on by a gorilla. The pieces were littered throughout the area, as if a tornado had picked them up and threw them around. Her mother's large canvas painting was initially nowhere to be seen.

The granite countertop was broken clean in half from top to bottom, and the middle pieces had caved in to almost make a _V _shape. The easel that her mother placed her canvases on was embedded in the wall like someone used it as a dart. The few windows in the home was broken through like a boxer had put their fists through it.

Isabelle could almost see her mother getting thrown around and having to fight off her attacker. The sight and the sound of her mother's screams made Isabelle's fists clench and her eyes water.

_Wait until I find you, _Isabelle thought to herself.

Before she could overthink too much, Isabelle noticed that her mother's canvas was face up in the middle of all this mess. Isabelle closed the front door behind her and approached the canvas.

Painted on it was a breathtakingly gorgeous woman in front of the ocean under a night sky. The painting was one of her mother's hyper-realistic paintings; each dark blue ridge and curve of the ocean was carefully crafted and polished. Each grain of sand shone like tiny diamonds. The woman seemed to be walking towards the viewer. She had braided hair that was a black-blue like the night sky. The hair fell down to her waist like silk ropes. Her hair looked to be blowing to the woman's right. Her skin had a tan-greenish hue to it and she wore a bright white smile. She looked like a wolf having finally cornered its prey. She seemed to wear a bodysuit adorned with green, black, and purple scales. She held a long battle axe in her hand and Isabelle suddenly felt an intense chill on the back of her neck.

Isabelle stood quickly and turned around.

There was nothing there.

She exhaled. "Relax, Izzy, relax. You're good."

Isabelle took one more look at the painting and shuddered. She didn't know where her mother got the inspiration for her paintings; the most explanation she ever got was, "I saw it in a dream." The types of things that her mother would draw, though, would be sometimes fairly disturbing. One time, she had drawn a picture of a man with olive-colored skin, curly hair, and horns coming out of his head like a demon. He had goat legs instead of human legs and he was getting brutally stabbed through the chest with a spear. Isabelle had asked her mother if she was okay, and her mother had shakily told her that she needed to make a call. Isabelle had asked her mother about it afterwards, but to no avail.

Isabelle continued past the kitchen and crept up the old stairs. Sure enough, they creaked as she ascended. Isabelle remembered that the creaks were what alerted the attacker to her mother's presence. With a start, she noticed dried blood stains on the wall. The blood spatter looked to show that the fight started upstairs and violently traveled downstairs.

Isabelle took a breath and kept climbing until she reached the top. She moved towards her mother's room and paused before going in. She took a deeper breath and opened the door to it.

All in all, the room was pretty neat by her mother's standards. It was small, but the sheer number of decorations gave the room personality. Her mother had a blue and green dreamcatcher on the wall, several paint bottles on the twin-sized bed-cot, countless paintings on the walls, a bowl of golden coins, a stack of clothes folded in the back right of the room, and a spray bottle by her vine-covered window. On the nightstand (the one Isabelle crafted for her years ago) was a stack of letters. Isabelle looked on the floor as she stepped in and she saw a _large _black chest with golden accents and a golden key-hole. The chest was popped ajar, but not fully opened.

Around the chest were a number of trinkets, spread out like her mother was looking for something. The trinkets included a pen, some hairpins, a blue hairbrush, bracelets, and a necklace-pendant thing. Isabelle wondered if that hairbrush, the one tangled with bright red hair, was the famous (or infamous?) one that she threw at that mob boss.

Was her hair on the brush when it hit him?

_Gross. _

Isabelle sank to her knees and crawled over to the chest. In her mother's recounting of the break-in and attack, she had mentioned how she grabbed the first thing she could fine.

However, it seemed like her mother did more than that.

Isabelle creaked open the treasure chest and felt like Indiana Jones for a second. What treasure would she find in this chest of wonders?

A bunch of money from her grandfather?

Some old stationery from back in her mother's day?

As she opened the treasure chest, she saw…nothing. It was pitch black in the chest and the darkness seemed to stretch down for miles. Isabelle slowly put her hand down the chest and her fingers brushed against a multitude of items. Isabelle put her other hand into the chest and began to pull out as one item after another.

The first thing she grasped and pulled out was a large horn about as big as her forearm. The horn looked like it was ripped straight off a bull's head. It was surprisingly heavy, and Isabelle put that to the side.

The next thing she found was an unopened White Stripes music album with a note on it that said: _From: Rachel. To: Percy. Happy 24__th__ birthday, Aquaman! And happy retirement! Hope you, Annabeth, Sally, and Estelle do something special for you. _

Isabelle wrinkled her nose. _Percy? _That sounded like the name of some character from a book.

_And who retires at 24? _

Isabelle realized that this must have been a birthday present that her mother had gotten for this Percy person. She almost laughed at the Aquaman reference, because Aquaman was her mother's favorite comic book character. In contrast, Aquaman was Isabelle's least favorite hero; she was terrified of deep water, so following the exploits of a man who lives in deep water and talks to fish was never too attractive to her.

Isabelle pulled out two beat-up manuscripts from the chest. The seams and the wearing-out of the pages reminded her of the _Superman _comic books in the library. The manuscripts had simple titles; one was, _A Beginner's Guide to Greek Gods _and the other was titled _Greek Heroes for Dummies_.

The author tag for both read, "Written by: Smelly Gabe (definitely a pseudonym)."

Isabelle furrowed her brow and opened up the _Beginner's Guide to Greek Gods _book. She skimmed over the introduction.

"_A publisher in New York asked me to write down what I know about the Greek gods, and I was like, 'Can we do this anonymously? Because I don't need the Olympians mad at me again.' But if it helps you to know your Greek gods, and survive an encounter with them if they ever show up in your face, then I guess writing all this down will be my good deed for the week. If you don't know me, my name is Percy Jackson. I'm a modern day demigod- a half-god, half-mortal son of Poseidon- but I'm not going to say much about myself." _

Isabelle narrowed her eyes.

_Percy Jackson? _She grabbed the White Stripes music album and double-checked the name. "Percy" was the same name that the album was issued to.

Isabelle re-read the passage in the manuscript. _"I'm a modern day demigod- a half-god, half-mortal son of Poseidon." _

Next to the sentence was a post-it note that read, "REDACT YOUR NAME, SEAWEED BRAIN!"

_Seaweed Brain? _

Isabelle continued to read the manuscript. Overall, it started off with some pretty outlandish stuff; she read about how the beginning of the universe started with Chaos, how Gaea and Ouranos (two personifications of the earth and sky, respectively) came together, how their youngest child Kronos killed Ouranos and proceeded to birth the Greek gods.

The author, Percy, went into detail about the godly sibling relationships, the family drama, and some old Greek myths that Isabelle had heard about in school. Isabelle read Percy's description of how Athens got its name. She read about Poseidon's affair with Medusa. She found a reference the author made to his girlfriend, someone named Annabeth.

Isabelle thought that was a pretty name.

She had continued to read the manuscript when she came across something that made her double take. _"One of the biggest mysteries about Athena is why she's called Pallas Athena…" _

Isabelle thought back to Detective Pallas standing in her black coat, with intense gray eyes that seemed to make the wind blow faster.

Isabelle kept reading. "_Even the Greeks couldn't agree on why their favorite goddess had the nickname Pallas, but here's the way I heard it." _

She thought back to her walking away from Detective Pallas, turning back, and finding no sign of the woman.

She read about how Pallas was a sparring partner of the goddess Athena, but how Zeus killed Pallas in a fumbled attempt to save his daughter from defeat in combat.

Isabelle's heart nearly leapt out her chest when she read the phrase, "_Looking in his daughter' stormy gray eyes, Zeus felt almost as he'd faced the giant Typhoeus." _

Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, had stormy gray eyes.

Detective Pallas was a mysterious woman who seemed to know everything. She had mentioned working with someone named Apollo, and when Isabelle had looked back, she seemed to have disappeared into thin air. She was also the one other person in the world that Isabelle had met that had…gray eyes.

Isabelle immediately closed the manuscript. "No, no, no, no, no, this can't be, this can't be. It's just a coincidence."

She put the manuscript to the side and placed the large horn on top of it, almost to make sure that it didn't mystically open back up to where she had stopped.

_Why would Mom have this in her chest? Is this where she gets her ideas for paintings from? _

Isabelle looked at the _Greek Heroes _manuscript for a few seconds.

"Should I?" she asked herself.

She shook her head, and placed it next to the _Greek Gods _manuscript. Isabelle loved knowledge and was curious about nearly everything. She knew that if she started the other manuscript, she'd be tempted to go back to the other manuscript and read both in full.

"Percy Jackson, you're a weird guy," Isabelle whispered to herself.

She continued to dig through the chest and her hands locked onto a something that felt like a slip. She pulled it out and saw a receipt for gas. The date on the receipt was over thirty years ago.

_That's odd, _Isabelle thought. Why would her mother have something so old and small in the chest?

_And what was that horn from? _

She reached in again and found an envelope. Isabelle pulled out the mystery item like she was on a game show. It was an opened envelope with a crinkled, folded piece of paper in it. Isabelle pulled the letter out and looked at it. It seemed to be fairly short, written in sloppy blue ink that was now starting to fade and smear over the paper. Isabelle could make out most of the letter, though.

"_Hey Rachel,_

_I never know how to start these letters, so I'll just dive right in. Cell phones are a little bit dangerous right now, so I decided to stick with letters until it's safe enough to go back to phones. I've been hanging out with Nico with a lot, and he… is intense, to say the least. You've seen the monsters and…him rising out of his coffin last summer. There's a war coming, and we have to be ready. It's a lot for me to deal with right now, and…honestly, you're one of the things that brings me back down to earth. You make me feel like a regular, dumb guy and I'm pretty grateful for that. Tyson misses you, and I actually miss you, even though you sometimes scare me more than half the monsters I fight. _

_Anyway, how would you feel about just going with me to this private stretch of beach on the South Shore? My mother and Paul are going and they asked me if I wanted to take anyone. I immediately thought about taking you…only because I feel like you could use a break at home. Let me know when you can. Stay safe._

_-Percy" _

Isabelle slowly put the letter down.

She frowned as her mind worked to analyze this letter. "So..."

Isabelle had so much on her mind that she needed to write it down. As someone who wrote short stories for fun, she always felt like writing her thoughts down was much easier than keeping it all in her head. She also forgot things pretty easily, so writing stuff down helped remind her of where her head was at.

Isabelle looked around and spotted the old-school ballpoint pen on the ground. She turned the old envelope on the back and grabbed the pen. She uncapped it and the pen exploded in her hand. Isabelle shrieked and dropped it as she looked on the ground at where the pen was.

The pen didn't explode.

In fact, the pen was no longer a pen. It had expanded and grown into a shimmering sword with a golden-bronze glow. The sword was double-edged, with a handle that looked to be wrapped in leather. The leather handle seemed to also have some flash to it; it was dotted with gold studs that made the sword handle glint in the sunlight. The blade expanded towards the middle like a long, deadly leaf.

Isabelle backed up and eyed the weapon on the ground.

She looked at it some more.

After about thirty seconds, she was still staring dumbly at the sword.

_What in Bob Marley is going on? _

_What is that thing? _

Isabelle muttered, "This is crazy."

She crept slowly towards the sword and shook her right arm. Her bag's hold loosened and slid off. Isabelle reached towards the sword slowly. Her right arm was trembling as she did. The sword was reflecting sunlight, making it seem like a sword of divine energy. Isabelle touched the hilt of the sword and felt a cool feeling rush through her body. Her fingers grasped the handle and she picked up the sword.

The sword was surprisingly light in her arms. As she held it up and the sunlight followed the sword, she felt…absolutely nothing.

She felt no skill, no desire to swing it, and the reality that she was holding a sword came quickly rushing back to Isabelle.

She shook her head. "What am I doing?"

Isabelle carefully put the sword on the stack of clothes behind her and sat down in front of the chest again.

She reached in and felt fabric. She pulled out an old New York Yankees cap with a curved brim. Isabelle investigated the hat to see if there were any notes attached to it, but there were not. She put the hat to the side.

She pulled out a small bottle of what looked like sunscreen. The label read, "_SPF 50,000_" and was adorned with an image of a sun on the front.

She pulled out a maroon shirt that read, "_Clarion Ladies Academy._" She remembered her mother telling her stories of how she attended that school. Apparently, it sucked.

She pulled out a sleek black card with silver wings drawn on the front. Something told her not to touch the wings illustration, so she avoided that as she carefully put it down.

She pulled out a laptop from the chest. It had a triangle indentation on the front of it. Next to the bottom left corner of the indentation was a Post-It note attached to it; _"Artemis returned this to me. She found it during a hunt. She'd try and kill me if I didn't return it. Emphasis on try. Enjoy. –Hephaestus." _

Isabelle blinked. "Hephaestus. Athena. Apollo. Pallas. A pen that magically turns into a sword…the Greek gods couldn't have possibly existed. The socioeconomic implications would be ridiculous. They couldn't have existed."

She looked at the _Greek Gods _manuscript and frowned.

_Could they? _

She reached back in the chest and pulled out a postcard that seemed like it was printed on old cardstock. On the postcard though, was a picture of a young woman with bright red hair, freckles, and excited green eyes. She was taking a selfie with many other people of all different ages, and they all looked to be at some kind of outdoor facility or camp. They were all smiling, but none was smiling wider than the girl in the front. She looked like she was a camp counselor of sorts.

It was her mother.

Isabelle stared somberly at the picture. The postcard had a little bit of text at the very bottom that said, "Missing you two at Camp Half-Blood! Hope you all are okay! Congratulations on the baby!"

The postcard was addressed to an apartment in California, and the name was addressed to a Mr. and Mrs. Jackson.

_Percy Jackson. _

Isabelle wondered if the "Mrs. Jackson" character was the Annabeth character that Percy had mentioned. It would be cute if they ended up getting married.

The last thing Isabelle pulled out was a photo album. The front of the album was decorated with beads, glitter, and small recreations of fishing materials and ancient weapons like swords, axes, and daggers. The album was titled, "Leo's Awesome Construction of an Album of the Epic Wedding That He Went To!"

Isabelle opened the photo album. The first fifteen pictures was an elven-looking guy with long black hair, dark brown eyes, and a huge smile on his face. The pictures were taken from different angles, and he had a tuxedo on. The captions ranged from, "Leo's Awesome Tux" to "Leo's Awesome Tux…From Behind!"

_Men and their egos, _Isabelle thought.

As Isabelle turned to the sixteenth page, she saw a group picture of people who looked to be at a wedding. They seemed to be outside, on a beach. A string of lights snaked along the top of the wooden structure the group was under. In the center of the group was a groom with tanned skin, thick black hair and a crooked smile. He was holding hands with the smiling bride, a woman with long, curly blonde hair. Her dress was simple, but elegant, with unique golden patterns etched into the fabric of the gown. On either side of them was a group of guys and a group of girls. Isabelle spotted her mother as one of the bridesmaids, standing second from the left. The caption read, "Leo and Company."

Isabelle turned the page to see a closer-up picture of just the bride and Isabelle's young mother together. Both women were beautiful. Her mother looked happy, but her eyes seemed to say more. Her mother's hair fell in curls that rivaled the bride's. The bride's blonde hair was accented by the golden in her white dress. Her eyes were gray and though she smiled at the camera, her eyes conveyed a tiredness.

Isabelle found it hard to stop looking at the beautiful woman who stood next to her mother; this was the third person she has ever seen with gray eyes. The caption read, "Leo's Friends: Annabeth and Rachel."

_Annabeth. _

That was the name of the person Percy Jackson mentioned in the manuscript.

Was she actuallythe Mrs. Jackson shown in the postcard? Was this Percy Jackson's wedding?

_That'd be cute, _Isabelle thought.

Isabelle finally turned the page to see the Annabeth woman with a guy with dirty blonde hair. He was so skinny, that his suit almost hung off him. He looked ghostly. His eyes were also gray. He and Annabeth could have passed as siblings, they looked so much alike. He reminded Isabelle of the super old celebrity; Kurt Cobain. Her mother listened to him sometimes. The caption of the picture read: "Annabeth and Annabeth's Cousin."

Isabelle flipped the page to the next picture. She saw Annabeth with a young man that also had blonde hair and gray eyes. He looked clean cut and more militaristic than the Kurt Cobain cousin. He wore a white suit that looked almost brighter than Annabeth's dress. Isabelle wondered where she could find this land of gray eyed people. The caption read: "Annabeth and Malcolm: who wore it best?"

Isabelle continued to flip through. One picture was of Annabeth and a myriad of people who looked just like one another. She stopped when she reached a picture of Annabeth and Detective Pallas.

Pallas wore a plain black dress and she stood a head taller than Annabeth in the picture. They did not touch each other like Annabeth and all the other guests in the picture were doing; rather, they stood more like colleagues than friends. Annabeth, however, wore a slight smile while Pallas looked into the camera like a soldier. The caption read, "Annabeth and her mama; did you know that Annabeth's name contains all the letters needed to spell 'Athena'?"

Isabelle stared at the picture. Was this Leo person saying that Pallas was Athena? Or was it just them pointing out this fact? Regardless, Detective Pallas…definitely seemed to be Annabeth's mother.

_Why would Annabeth's mother be at Mom's house? Was she actually a detective? _Isabelle frowned and continued to turn the page. On this picture, she saw the groom with the guy from her mother's picture that one time; with the olive colored skin, curly hair, and horns coming out of his head. The picture guy was hugging the groom. Both were smiling ear-to-ear, like this was the happiest day of both their lives. The groom's sea green eyes crinkled under his slight smile lines. The caption read: "Percy and Goat-Man."

_This is Percy's wedding. _

_This is Percy Jackson and Annabeth's wedding. _

The same person who wrote the manuscripts and who wrote her mother that old letter.

Isabelle turned the page and saw a picture of all the guys together. She knew it was all the guys together because the caption said: "The Guys." One was the groom, Percy. On his right was the Goat-Man from her mother's picture. Next to Goat-Man was a very muscular man with a kind smile, baby face, and short black hair. Next to him was Annabeth's Kurt Cobain cousin.

On Percy's left was a very pale-looking guy who seemed a few inches shorter than Percy and had sunken cheeks and eyelids. He seemed to have seen the darkest secrets of this world. Next to him was a lean guy with a fitted suit, brown hair, and milk chocolate colored skin. Next to him on the end was Leo, giving such a big smile than it seemed to almost draw attention away from Percy.

Isabelle flipped the next page with some difficulty. This page had a caption that read: "The Girls." In the middle was Annabeth, in her beautifully radiant dress, shining in the middle of quite a few women.

On Annabeth's right was a girl who looked about sixteen. She had very black hair that was not only cut short, but was lined up so there were very sharp and clean patterns etched into it. She wore a fitted woman's suit.

_She looks out of place, _Isabelle thought. The woman was tall, lithe, and had light blue eyes that seemed to almost glow white. Isabelle couldn't help but notice that her skin looked like it was glowing. She smiled deviously at the camera, and Isabelle could tell that she was someone who was pretty outgoing.

Next to her was a beautiful woman who had copper-brown skin and silky brown hair. Her beauty nearly hijacked the entire image. Her eyes were not as luminescent as the woman's next to her, but she seemed to have eyes that were many different colors, as if she couldn't decide between blue, green, purple, brown, or golden. She wore a beautiful yellow and orange dress that made her skin pop. She had one of those timeless faces, where she could be anywhere from twenty to forty and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Her smile was blinding and almost pulled Isabelle into the picture.

Standing next to the colorful beauty was a woman who presented as Latinx. She was pretty, but in a militaristic way. She seemed to be about Annabeth's age, around her mid-twenties. She had braided black hair and dark eyes. She wore a humble, but sleek purple dress. Her lean muscles accentuated the outfit. She gave a tight smile, like she had a predetermined number of smiles to give, and believed that her smiles should be carefully delegated to big events, lest she run out of them.

On Annabeth's left was someone that Isabelle didn't know how to feel about. She was tiny and had short amber-colored hair. Her skin was greenish. She looked like one of Santa's elves, if Santa's base was in the Amazon. She was smiling, but was also crying. Isabelle could've sworn that the tears were green too, though she thought they may be her skin.

Next to the elven woman was Isabelle's mother, with her red hair and smile popping out of the picture. Standing to Isabelle's mother's left was a young woman with blue eyes and a lot of caramel blonde hair (with red highlights) that was pulled back into a bun. She wore a red dress that complemented her hair. Next to that woman was a brown-skinned woman with a lot of brown hair and golden eyes. She stood the tallest among the women, but also seemed the youngest out of them.

Isabelle turned the page to see Percy Jackson with a man who looked like an older, taller version of him. The man had a beard, longer hair, and a few wrinkles on his face, but his kind green eyes and facial structure matched Percy's exactly. He wore a _very _loud white and green suit, which contrasted with Percy's traditional black suit. The caption read: "Percy and Poseidon."

Isabelle looked at the sword on the pile of clothes in the corner, and then at the _Greek Gods _manuscript. She then looked back at the picture.

_What is going on? _

She turned the page to see Percy and "Poseidon" again, but this time with a beautiful, kindly-looking woman with brown hair and a wide smile. The woman wore a deep blue dress, and for an older woman, she looked pretty divine. The Poseidon character seemed uncomfortable and the older woman's smile made it seem like she knew he was uncomfortable. The caption read: "Percy looks nothing like his mother."

Isabelle stared at the woman. _That was Percy's mother. Wow. They do look nothing alike. _

Isabelle turned the page and saw Percy, Poseidon, and Percy's mother in the picture, but this time, they were with an older man with brown hair and a gray suit on. He had his arm around both Percy's mother and Percy, while Percy's arm was around the gray suit man and Poseidon. They all had big smiles, and the caption read: "Do you think Poseidon feels threatened by Paul?"

_Paul. _

Isabelle shook her head. This was only getting weirder.

The next picture had Poseidon and Detective Pallas together. Pallas' black dress seem to suck all the light and brightness from Poseidon's suit. Poseidon looked even more uncomfortable than he did with Percy's mother, while Athena maintained the same scowl. They stood a few feet apart, like they were leaving room for Jesus during a dance at a Catholic school. Pallas' hair was pulled and linked in one large braid that fell over her left shoulder. The picture seemed to almost be blurred like their presence together cancelled out the clarity of the picture. The caption read: "Poseidon and Athena; can you believe these two ever worked together to create the chariot? They suck all the fun and life out of the room."

_Getting weirder, _Isabelle thought to herself. These could not possibly be the Poseidon and Athena of myth.

She turned the page and saw both Poseidon and Pallas with Percy and Annabeth; the newly married couple had slid into the chasm between Poseidon and Pallas in the previous picture. The newlyweds' presence made the picture much more wholesome and a lot more loving. Poseidon and Percy stood close together and both had wide smiles on their faces. Poseidon had a hand on Percy's shoulder. Percy was holding hands with Annabeth, who gave an almost sultry half smile as she stood next to Pallas, whose face would have looked blank if the camera had not captured a microexpression of pride on it. The caption read: "I guess they could work together on one thing."

The next picture was Annabeth smiling with the sixteen-year-old girl. Isabelle didn't know if that was Annabeth's other cousin, or her mentee, or something else. However, they smiled with one another like they were old friends. With the girl's fitted suit and Annabeth's dress, they looked like they were getting married. The woman's blue eyes and Annabeth's gray eyes clashed like thunder and lightning. The caption read: "The bride and Leo's biggest fan."

_If that girl is really Leo's biggest fan, she needs to reevaluate her priorities, _Isabelle thought.

She tried to turn the next page, but the pages seemed to be stuck together. With a strong pull, Isabelle accidentally ripped the page out of the book. She cursed to herself as she examined the rip lines in the photo album. She turned her attention to the page in her hand. On that page was a picture of Annabeth, who was holding a newborn baby. Annabeth was smiling at something off-camera like someone to her right had made a joke. The baby's mouth was stretched open in either mid-cry or mid-yawn. If the child was crying, Annabeth didn't seem bothered.

The caption read: "Annabeth and her bundle of joy. Welcome to the Camp Half-Blood family, Isabelle Silena Jackson! We'll make you a hero in no time, just stick with Uncle Leo!"

Isabelle yelped and dropped the book and the stray photograph. She stood straight up and looked from the picture to the the vine-covered window. She found her breath quickening, and her face and hands beginning to sweat.

_My middle name is Silena, _she repeatedly thought to herself.

Isabelle looked at the photo album, then at the sword. There was a multitude of thoughts doing somersaults through her mind.

_There is a photo album from Percy's and Annabeth's wedding. _

_The photo album has someone named Poseidon and Athena in it. _

_Athena is the probably the same person as Pallas._

_Mom claimed that her parents were "soldiers." _

_Pallas/Athena healed Mom and talked about working with Apollo to do so._

_There's a pen that magically turns into a sword. _

_There's a few books written by Percy Jackson. _

_Percy Jackson has kind, sea green eyes. _

_Annabeth is holding a baby with her name. _

_Annabeth has gray eyes. _

_Pallas, or Athena, has gray eyes. _

_Percy Jackson and Poseidon look just like each other. _

_Percy Jackson said in his manuscript that he was the son of Poseidon, the god of the seas. _

_Percy Jackson's manuscript says that Greek gods are real. _

_There was a woman who cracked a sturdy counter with her bare hands. _

_Mom said that there are people out there who hate my father and will kill me. _

_Old women cannot crack counters. _

Isabelle scrambled to the _Greek Gods _manuscript and took a breath as she looked at the cover page.

_My mother has had this text in her chest, but she's never talked about it, _Isabelle thought.

_Why?_

It was too many coincidences for Isabelle to dismiss it as just chance. Upon thinking about everything, she came to a set of startling realizations.

A) The Greek gods and related creatures may have actually existed and/or currently exist in this world.

B) Detective Pallas may not be a real detective, rather, she may be Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom.

C) It may have been a poisonous monster from Ancient Greek mythology that attacked her mother.

D) It may have been a murderous monster that confronted Isabelle at the library.

E) Her mother knows Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase very well.

F) Percy Jackson, and possibly Annabeth, may be a half-god person, or a "demigod," as he called it in the manuscript.

The last realization she came to made her stomach hurt.

G) Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase may have been her birth parents.

Isabelle gave a dry swallow. She felt tears forming at the back of her eyes. She never knew who her birth parents were, and her mother never told her their names. Now, she had not only their names, but what they looked like, a letter from her possible birth father, and some belongings that may have belonged to them.

Isabelle grabbed the _Greek Gods _manuscript. As sunlight began to seep through the vines and the window glass, Isabelle realized that she didn't get too much sleep. At this point, though, she didn't care.

The Greek gods may be real, and her birth parents may be tied to them. She has a full manuscript detailing the entire lore of Greek gods, narrated by someone who may be her birth father.

She needed to read through the entire thing.

Isabelle sat down shakily, moved the sword so the point wasn't facing towards her, and opened the manuscript.


	6. Chapter 6

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. **

"_You probably know enough to avoid getting zapped into a pile of ash if you ever come across any of the twelve Olympians. Probably. Me, I'm late to meet my girlfriend. Annabeth is going to kill me. Hope you enjoyed the stories. Stay safe out there, demigods. _

_Peace from Manhattan, _

_Percy Jackson." _

Isabelle closed the manuscript and exhaled. It felt like she had held her breath during the entire read.

Though she had skimmed over it before, she decided to read more in-depth this time. As Isabelle had read through the text, she had the photo album open to the image of Percy and Annabeth smiling with the Poseidon and Athena figures. Whenever she would be reading and a corny joke would be made, she would find herself glancing at Percy's picture to put a face to the bad joke. Whenever Annabeth would be mentioned (which was surprisingly little), Isabelle would look at the beautiful bride. Isabelle had seen Annabeth in the other pictures and she seemed on edge, like there was something wrong or something missing. However, in this picture she had the album turned to, Annabeth was with Percy and she seemed truly happy.

Whenever she would read about the gods, she would look at Poseidon and Athena to try to wrap her head around the fact that the Earthshaker and the goddess of wisdom may have been at her birth parents' wedding.

Regarding the manuscript itself, Isabelle thought it was a wild ride.

She had never seen the ancient Greek myths communicated with modern language. It was like the Sparknotes of the old Greek texts. Based on the language and the slang, it looked like it was written like 35-40 years ago. The pantheon of ancient Greek gods seemed to be a reality show of eccentric characters, with all the cliques, gossip, and drama of a guilty-pleasure program. She re-read about the beginnings of the universe, according to Percy. She learned how the Primordial Gods came into existence, and how the Titans established their reign. She read about how the gods then took over and how they struggled with their positions of power.

In her read, Isabelle came to a few conclusions. First of all, Isabelle knew that she definitely did not want to be on the Titans' bad side; they seemed terrifying. The second conclusion was that most of the conflicts in Greek mythology stemmed was due to one thing.

Pride.

Isabelle always thought that pride was a dangerous thing. When she dealt with bullies in middle school, she realized, even back then, that those kids were only being mean so they could feel some sort of pride or control regarding who they are. Isabelle knew the world was a big place, and she has learned that everyone is just trying to find some way to feel significant. These mean kids wanted to be cool and seem tough. So, they would terrorize smaller, weaker children in an attempt to achieve that. It wasn't natural behavior; it was learned from the other students who seemed "cool," and "tough." Little did these impressionable kids know; _those _students learned it from someone else.

These Primordial Gods, Titans, and Greek gods, despite their far-reaching power and influence, were no different than those middle school kids. Kronos straight-up _swallowed _his children out of his fear that he would be overthrown. Zeus, the supposed hero of the Olympians, had followed in his father's footsteps and swallowed his first child. He did so out of paranoia that he would lose his power and privilege.

Reading about the tragic story of Arachne, Isabelle saw that pride was interwoven into the entire narrative like threads in a sweater. Arachne had so much pride in her craft that she did not take any advice from the disguised Athena. She had so much pride that she challenged Athena herself. Athena, in turn, was so proud that she came down from Olympus to accept the challenge. Athena's ego was so bruised by the competition that she attacked Arachne and turned her into a spider.

She wondered if Detective Pallas knew about this story.

She had read the Titan Prometheus created humans from clay and provided them with the gift of fire. Then she saw the brutal punishment he had gotten for such an act; after seeing humans begin to evolve in their ways, the gods' pride in their supposed superiority prompted them to _create _a human to release torments and evils upon the world.

The gods judged Hephaestus for the way he looked. Aphrodite had too much pride and not enough discipline to stay loyal to the poor god of fire. Isabelle realized that prejudice based off of someone's appearance was not something humans invented. It has been around for millennia.

Poseidon created horses from a competition based in pride, to be the patron of a city that eventually became Athens.

There was so much pride. The gods, like their predecessors before them, seemed to use their power to bully others. They were indiscriminate; they would bully humans, each other, Titans, beasts, monsters, everyone, with no consequences, repercussions, or accountability.

If this type of behavior is learned, where did the Greek gods learn it from?

Isabelle promised herself that _if _the Greek gods are real, and _if _she ever meets one in person, and _if _she doesn't pass out, she would have some words with them about their behavior. She hated bullies. And when she looked at these wedding pictures with people that may be Greek gods in disguise, she wondered how Annabeth could have them at her wedding. These individuals were murderers, torturers, thieves, perpetrators of sexual assault…this group of immortals are not _good. _They may show familial loyalty and they may have been trying their best, but for Isabelle, that wasn't good enough.

Yeah, she had some words for them.

_If _they exist.

Isabelle did read something interesting about accountability, though. She read that apparently, the gods did have to keep their promises if they swore on something called, the "River Styx." Isabelle wondered if there were real sticks floating around in there. Naturally, she then wondered if the entire river itself is made of sticks.

She did find a few other things interesting about the text.

1) Hestia was one of her favorite characters. She was not too proud, she seemed to see through the façade that the gods created for themselves. Instead of embroiling herself in their affairs, Hestia seemed to just find a corner for herself and make a home out of it.

2) Isabelle thought it was curious that Percy described Poseidon as, "not the most attentive."

_Do Greek gods show up for their kids' birthday parties? _Isabelle couldn't really fathom seeing Zeus sitting at a table with a party hat on his head, holding a crackling lightning bolt in his hand. From what she read in the book, Zeus seems like the type of person to take offense to some nice guy buying a more thoughtful gift for the birthday child, and then strike the entire party with an ungodly strike of lightning.

3) Apparently, Percy had an immortal stepmom as well. Isabelle wondered how weird Percy's family is if he truly had an in-attentive, undying, powerful father, a godly stepmom, and a mortal mother?

_Or was Percy's mother also a god? _

Isabelle had too many questions. She did know, however, that there were too many weird things that have happened over the past two days for her to discount it as coincidence.

Isabelle hopped to her feet. The quick movement was swiftly followed by a roar of hunger from her stomach, a growl so loud that some deer probably scampered away.

"Yikes," Isabelle muttered to herself, grabbing her stomach. In all this craziness, she realized that she hadn't eaten anything in a while.

She looked towards the doorway. She wished she could have grabbed a bagel, but the kitchen was kind of out of commission. The organic, whole grain bagels were probably so destroyed that there was nothing left but the whole grains.

She did have one option left, though.

Isabelle pulled the blue lollipop from her bag, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. She felt like a kid as she surveyed all the items on the floor.

"Wow. There are actual weapons lying around here," she garbled to herself. The head of the lollipop swirled around in her mouth and she knew that her tongue was going to turn blue soon. She had no regrets, though.

Isabelle used her left hand to pick up the cap from the sword-pen. She then turned towards the sword, which was still in the corner, glimmering in the new sunlight. She grabbed the weapon with her free hand and leaned on it.

As she looked around the room again, she saw that a beam of sunshine was shining onto the laptop that had a triangle on it. Isabelle saw the Post-It note from Hephaestus on it as well.

_Could this really have been from Hephaestus, the god himself? _

In the sun, the triangle glowed and emitted an intense heat. It reminded Isabelle of being next to a fire. She moved quickly and grabbed the laptop, putting it under her arm.

Isabelle picked up the sunscreen and held it in the fingers of her left hand. A sunscreen that said, "_SPF 50,000" _seemed intense, but it was tropical coconut scented. Plus, Isabelle had lost her sunscreen a few weeks ago. She needed some.

She was about to leave the room when she spotted the large horn. She didn't know where it was from, but she decided to take it anyway. She had a lot to ask her mother about.

When Isabelle bent down to grab the horn, everything in her arms came tumbling onto the floor. With a curse, Isabelle leaned down to pick everything up, but she spotted her bag.

How could she have been so dense? Why is she trying to carry everything when she has a bag?

Isabelle grabbed her bag and emptied out the contents. Her laptop, planner, wallet, keys, hand sanitizer, pins from the Office of Sustainability, peer-reviewed articles on clean energy, and assignments from last academic year dropped out. Her mood pendant slinked out at the last moment, with everything else.

Isabelle frowned. She said at almost a whisper, "Why did I take you off?"

She grabbed the mood pendant and was about to put it on when she saw a leather necklace by the chest.

The necklace had about ten or eleven clay beads on it, along with a college ring, a coral pendant, and a bright red hexagon-shaped amulet. When Isabelle flipped the necklace around, she noticed an engraving on the inside band of the necklace that said, "_A hero is a person who is brave for one minute longer than everyone else._"

Isabelle looked at the window. The sunlight was silhouetting the vines covering the glass, making it look like tendrils of darkness creeping in. She liked the quote, though.

A hero does not necessarily have to be someone who is not scared or afraid. Rather, they are just someone who is willing to not let that fear conquer them. Isabelle turned her gaze back to the necklace, and put it around her neck.

As soon as she did, she felt the amulet on her neck become warm. It then started to hum with energy. Isabelle looked down at her chest until the humming finally quieted down.

_Was this Annabeth's? Or Percy's? Or her mother's? _

"Oh…kay." Isabelle grabbed Hephaestus' laptop and put in her bag. She was about to reach for the sword, but it was gone. Isabelle looked around, but couldn't find it anywhere. The faint golden glow it had been emitting all throughout the early morning was nowhere to be seen.

"I must be the only person alive capable of losing a damn sword." Isabelle continued to pack. She put the sunscreen in the pocket that Pallas' golden liquid was in. She decided to keep her water canteen in the other pocket.

Isabelle scooped up the manuscripts and slipped them in her bag. She picked up the New York Yankees hat and put it in there as well. She dropped the photo album in the bag as well. She put the black card in the smaller pocket of her bag.

She noticed an unassuming pen on the floor, by her feet.

"How do you change so easily," Isabelle asked herself as she carefully picked it up. She made sure to keep it far away from her body. She put the sword-pen in her bag.

Isabelle stood up and looked at the room. The chest was still open, but overall, the room was back to how it looked before; with some hairpins, bracelets, and the infamous hairbrush on the ground.

"Mom, you have lived a life," Isabelle commented as she stepped out the bedroom door. Her bag was surprisingly light for everything she just put in there, but she decided not to complain.

Isabelle slunk across the hallway and pushed open the door to her room. Not much bigger than most of her classmates' home bathrooms, her room was always a home for her. The walls and floors had wooden panes as if she lives inside a treehouse. Her twin bed in the corner of the room sported royal purple sheets. She had white pillows that had turquoise trim and decorations on them. At the foot of her bed was her sweater with Violet, the purple polar bear, stitched onto it. Even after two years, the knit sweater was still holding up due to its superior design. It was almost like it was made by Arachne.

"Too soon," Isabelle murmured. She wasn't sure if she believed in an afterlife, but she hoped Arachne has found peace somewhere.

A cheap oil diffuser stood on the dresser by her bed, still faithfully spewing a "Clean Linen" scent throughout the room. Though the dresser was closed, Isabelle knew that it should still be stocked with clothes. She did laundry the other day. Isabelle took off her bag, grabbed her Violet sweater, and threw it on.

Once Isabelle put on the purple polar bear sweater, she immediately felt braver.

She put her hair into a ponytail and took a breath. She wanted to do something, but she knew that her mother would not approve.

_They will kill you. You need to make sure you don't go back to that library over the next few days. _

"Sorry, Mom." Isabelle cuffed her pants twice so it almost hung above the edge of her socks and tied the laces on her silver sneakers. She picked her bag up and headed downstairs. Her lollipop bounced with the impressions of the stairs. She felt a headache forming, but she didn't care.

She needed to find that woman again. When dealing with bullies, her mother always told her that she needed to get on offense.

Isabelle remembered her mother telling her when she was young, _"Don't let those girls keep harassing you. If you stay on defense, they will never leave you alone. You will be running for the rest of your life. Get on offense, and make them respond to you. Make them acknowledge who you are." _

Though this advice resulted in Isabelle punching a few girls in the nose and her mother being called to the office, her mother made sure to hug her when they were out of sight and earshot of the principal's office.

"_I'm so proud of you, Izzy." _

Isabelle took a breath. This was no different. These were just bullies. She needed to get on offense. That old woman, that Ker…knows where Isabelle works. What's to say that she won't come there again? Or that they won't attack her mother again? Isabelle knew that her mother mentioned that a few friends were coming into town, but she couldn't wait that long.

Isabelle was not powerless.

She has a sword. And she had knowledge. She needed to go to the library.

Isabelle reached the bottom of the stairs. She passed the split counter and the chaos in the living room, and she stepped outside. The morning air was brisk compared to the usual California weather, but that was no problem for Isabelle. The sun was now shining confidently in the sky.

_The library should be open by now, _Isabelle thought.

_Fernando's going to kill me. _

Isabelle was about to look for her bicycle before she realized she didn't have it anymore. It was stolen the other day. Isabelle gave a curse that would have made Ethel blush, cupped her bag, and broke into a jog through the forest. She never realized how much she used her bike until she didn't have it anymore.

After an ungodly amount of time, Isabelle got to the Stockton-San Joaquin County Public Library. She looked up at the tan/light brown building and realized that despite the soft colors, the facility was much more intimidating now than ever. Part of her wanted to turn around and go back to the hospital and just stay in her mother's arms.

Before she did, though, she remembered what the quote on the inside of the necklace said.

She just needed to be brave for a few minutes.

Isabelle touched the hexagonal amulet on the necklace and doing so nearly revived her. She felt like resolve and ice cold determination was injected straight into her heart. Isabelle strutted towards the door like action stars did in the movies. She would have kicked open the front door if it wasn't a sliding door.

As she entered the library, she saw Fernando behind the desk. He looked up with a pleasant smile until he recognized Isabelle. His face shifted from his usual, warm customer service face to a "_What are you doing here?" _face. Isabelle nodded and smiled to Fernando and walked up the stairs. She slowed to a creep when she started to feel the unbearable warmth from the other day.

Her breath started to quicken.

_What am I doing? I'm currently walking into the library armed, _she thought to herself.

She put her hand in her bag. Her fingers wrapped around the pen and she brought it out.

Isabelle thought to herself, _What if she has a gun? _

She realized that she has actually brought a knife to a gunfight. Just a big, golden knife.

When Isabelle reached the top of the stairs, she saw the silver elevators, parked there as usual. She looked to her right at the young adult/comic book section. The same child that was there the other day was there today as well, as if he was not satisfied with his _Superman _comic book. The boy, however, had the same clothes he had on before. This time, though, he had a lollipop in his mouth to match Isabelle's.

Isabelle and the boy stared at each other for a few seconds before the boy's gaze fell to the pen in her hand. The child took his lollipop out his mouth and without breaking his stare at the pen, used the lollipop to tacitly point towards the children's section.

Isabelle nodded to the boy and he put the lollipop back in his mouth.

She looked up towards the children's section. The section was blocked off with a colorful label that read, "Children's Section." Inside the section was a colorful carpet with very bright and vibrant decorated shelves. The kiddie computers were organized in a circle in the middle of the area. Soft blue stools stood in front of each monitor. Large stuffed animals sat in the playroom for the super young kids, conveniently located next to the family bathrooms.

The library was too quiet. Though the library is supposed to be a simultaneously relaxing and studious atmosphere, there were always older, retired customers shuffling around during the day and younger people whispering and talking after about 4:00 p.m.

Now, there was no one there. There was no one except Ethel, who already had her headphones in as she swayed back and forth.

Isabelle shook her head and continued into the children's section. The transition from the carpeted floor to the soft foam floor was never more evident. Isabelle was hyper-aware of how far her feet sank into the floor with each step. As she entered, she saw something that confirmed her worst fears.

The old woman was there, still dressed in the suit. However, part of the suit seemed singed and ripped, like the woman walked through a fire. The woman had a wide base and was standing with her back to the glass windows behind her. She was facing Isabelle, with an unnaturally large grin plastered on her face. The woman continued to breathe heavily as Isabelle approached. With every step towards her, Isabelle noticed the woman's smile somehow get just a little bit wider.

Isabelle's heart began to pound excessively, and she placed her free hand on the amulet to try and calm herself down. However, she felt no confidence this time, just the cool touch of the amulet. Isabelle's grip on the pen tightened so much that her knuckles turned white.

She moved so that she was right in front of the woman. "Who are you?"

The woman looked at the pen and licked her lips. She opened her mouth to say something, but no human sound came out. It was just a bestial roar that sounded like a lion's roar met an upper respiratory infection. The woman's nails grew longer and longer as they turned into claws.

Isabelle nearly tripped backing up. The woman seemed to grow out of her suit, and her skin started to fall away to reveal gray, leathery skin underneath. Isabelle's breath caught in her throat.

_Just one minute of bravery. _

She exhaled and pointed the pen with all her might and will.

Nothing happened.

Isabelle's brow furrowed as she held a hand up to the old woman/monster thing, as to say, _Give me one moment_.

She shook the pen again, but nothing happened.

_No, no. This can't be. _

_Did I just pick up a regular pen? _She thought to herself.

Isabelle looked up at the woman, who was no longer an elderly lady. Now, she was eight feet tall, with gray skin, similarly colored wings, and glowing green eyes. Her face looked like a combination of a young woman, a pug, and a bat. Her hair shriveled up so the creature was now bald.

"Oh," Isabelle sighed. "So this…is a Ker."

The Ker smiled, a gruesome sight of yellow/black canines. "So you have done your research. Good."

The Ker moved in a flash, grabbing Isabelle and throwing her twenty feet into the wooden edge of the children's section aisle. Isabelle hit the edge with a cry as a spiking pain shot up through the small of her back. She crumpled down on the ground. Though she wanted to get up, none of her body seemed to be responding to her.

The Ker, though on two legs, moved like a tiger, with its shoulders leading the rest of the body in a slithery side-to-side movement. "I'm so glad you came back honey. I was afraid I was going to have to actually hunt for my meal."

Isabelle, while still on the ground, made a noise that she thought was a battle cry, but it seemed like a strained whisper. The Ker moved inhumanly fast, grabbed Isabelle by the hair, and threw her.

For a half second, Isabelle was suspended in the air. She felt nothing but movement. Her last sight was of the monster smiling and drooling as her body turned through the air, crashed through the glass, and fell out the window to the pavement below.


	7. Chapter 7

**All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I do not own any Percy Jackson-related content.**

_Well. This is it, _Isabelle thought as she fell through the air.

She didn't think this was her smartest course of action; to suspect that there was some kind of monster at the library and try to…_slay _it with a magical sword or something. As she free fell, she realized that this fall was nothing like a roller coaster, where her stomach would somehow both drop and jump up into her chest. Free falling was somehow more freeing and more terrifying. For the few seconds she was suspended in the air, she felt surreal. As she fell, she could _feel _her body falling, but it was like her mind wasn't making sense of it. As the milliseconds ticked on, she could feel nothing but the whisk of air blowing past her skin and her hair. She tried to scream, but the noise was carried away by the wind.

Isabelle had a weird thought. _If you try to scream, but you don't make any noise, did you really scream? _

_Now's not the time, _Isabelle chastised herself. Sometimes her mind moved a bit quickly.

Her velocity picked up as she flew over the sidewalk and began to drop towards Fernando's old, maroon Toyota in the parking lot below.

Isabelle closed her eyes. _I'm sorry, Mom. _

Isabelle saw a flash of silver erupt from her right side and a gust of wind shoot from the pavement. Before Isabelle could register her confusion, she felt someone whisk her away from her current course of falling. Everything was a whirl for a second or two, and when Isabelle came to, she was in the arms of a tall, lean woman with the skin of polished bronze. She looked to be about eighteen. She wore her hair in long, black braids that were tightly tied up at the moment. She had a nose piercing and she wore a black & silver outfit that looked like it was meant for hiking or camping. This woman seemed to glow with a silvery aura and just radiated power and bad-assery. She seemed to be holding Isabelle _Superman_-style with no effort at all.

Isabelle noticed that the mystery woman was looking up towards the now-broken window. Isabelle followed her gaze and saw the Ker fly through the hole of the window that Isabelle made. The Ker was being littered with arrows, but the arrows barely slowed it down. The monster turned towards the inside of the library, gave the weird throaty roar it gave Isabelle a few moments ago, and then used its leathery bat-wings to fly back into the scene of battle. Consequently, Isabelle heard crashes and cries from the library.

The mystery woman took a breath and looked down at Isabelle. "That's…wild. You okay, pretty lady?"

Isabelle took a breath and looked around. Thunder clouds were forming around the area with a supernatural quickness. The air, even outside, was thick and humid. Isabelle felt herself sweating and breathing hard. She heard Ethel screaming (with surprising volume) that someone has a gun.

Isabelle looked back up to the crack in the window. "That is _not _a gun."

The woman raised an eyebrow as she fixed her gaze on Isabelle's eyes. "No, it's not."

The woman's chocolate brown eyes softened as she set Isabelle down carefully on the pavement. She had forgotten she had been in the woman's arms the entire time; it was very comfortable and very warm there. She didn't even feel much pain in her back.

The woman nodded to Isabelle as she pulled a bow and arrow from basically thin air. "Stay there. Or…actually, hide behind that car. I'll come check on you in a bit."

The woman grinned and took off running around the building with blinding speed. Isabelle continued to hear the crashes and crying. She, herself, felt like breaking down. It had been a long couple days.

Isabelle's hand went to the leather necklace she had on. The beads seemed corroded and worn out, but they still brought her a level of comfort. She didn't know why, but knowing that someone took the time to make those beads and thread them through the necklace made Isabelle think of more normal times with her artsy mother.

_I just need to be brave for one minute. _Isabelle's heart rate quickened as she stood. Almost immediately after, a person fell through the window and crashed hard onto Fernando's car. Isabelle shrieked and covered her mouth.

The person, however, turned out to be a woman with the same outfit as Isabelle's savior. After a beat of lying there, the woman began to stir and stretch. She then began to curse so much that it would make Isabelle's mother blush. The woman then slid off the car, cracked her back, took out some knives, and ran around the perimeter of the building.

The sight of the seemingly immortal woman surviving her fall and dive right into battle made Isabelle want to do something. She was _not _going to stand by and let someone else take care of her mess.

With a deep breath, Isabelle also ran around the perimeter of the building. She was nowhere near as fast as the other wonder women in action.

_What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing,_ Isabelle repeated to herself as she reached the front of the library. This exact behavior was what got her thrown out of a window in the first place. She was only alive because she was lucky.

The front of the tan building no longer looked intimidating to Isabelle now. She didn't have time to be afraid. Now, it looked like an opportunity.

The automatic doors slid open as Isabelle surveyed the damage. There were a few holes in the ceiling of the first floor. Isabelle craned her neck to see behind the desk and she spotted a familiar face. Fernando was crouched under the desk, with his hands protecting his head and neck like this was an earthquake drill. Isabelle ran and hopped the desk so she landed right in front of Fernando.

He was shaking. Isabelle waved. "Hey, buddy. It's me. You want to get out of here?"

Fernando looked up. His usually kind eyes were now fearful. However, he seemed to relax just a little when he recognized her. "Get _out _of here, Isabelle. There's someone with a gun in here! Upstairs, in the kids' section. The police are there already."

Isabelle thought back to the woman that saved her and the Ker stomping upstairs. She thought that this "gun" and "police" was maybe an illusion that the monster was casting.

But maybe that reality is what Fernando needed right now.

"Sure, man. Come on, let's get you up." Isabelle took Fernando's wrist and pulled him up. A large _BOOM _sounded upstairs, making both staff members flinch. Isabelle pulled herself together, and in turn, pulled Fernando from behind the desk. She led him right to the sliding doors, but she felt him resist at the very last second.

"Wait, wait. You stay here. I'm going up to get Ethel."

Isabelle looked at Fernando sternly. "No. I'll get her. Come halfway up the stairs and be ready to carry her down once I get to the top of the stairs.

"But-"

"You've got to trust me."

The Ker's roar sounded from upstairs again.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows. "You've got to."

Fernando held her gaze and nodded. "Okay. Let's get her out of here."

Isabelle bounded up the stairs. When she reached the top, however, she stopped in her tracks.

The _entire _library was ruined. Books, shelves, monitors, and magazines were torn apart and lying all around the second floor. Papers were being blown around like Isabelle had stepped into a cyclone. The chaos reminded her of what she had seen at her mother's house. In her brief scan of the second floor, she saw a body lying under a fallen shelf of books.

_Ethel. _

Isabelle sprinted over to the adult section of the library, grabbed the corner of the wooden shelf, and tried to pull it off her co-worker. Despite her best effort, however, the shelf didn't budge.

Some of the soldier-women were thrown away from the battle scene and landed near Isabelle. However, she didn't have time to be distracted; she needed to focus on her task.

Isabelle looked around for any tools, but then remembered the concept of physics. She switched sides so she was on the other side of the shelf. She bent at her knees, put her hands underneath the edge, and pushed the shelf up. She used her legs to anchor her power, and the shelf started to lift. The adult fiction novels tumbled out of their places as the shelf began to move. Isabelle started to stand as she continued to push the shelf up until it reached its upright position.

Isabelle could only watch as Ethel leapt up with the energy of a woman a quarter of her age. She screamed, "SHE'S GOT A GUN," and ran towards the elevator. She was jumping over the fallen monitors and overturned chairs.

Isabelle shouted, "TAKE THE STAIRS!" Ethel changed course immediately, heading down the staircase instead. The old woman met Fernando halfway down, and jumped into his arms. Isabelle thought she heard a grunt from Fernando, but she watched as he carefully trudged down the stairs. Finally, Fernando put Ethel down and she ran out the library. He looked back up at Isabelle.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!"

Isabelle clenched her jaw. Fernando knew what that meant. Isabelle knew Fernando knew what it meant. It was the same face that she got when she would tell the rowdy pre-teens to be quiet and they told her to walk away. It was a look that said, _No, I'm not going to move. You move. _

Fernando looked down and sighed.

Isabelle turned and cautiously entered the children's section. The regular carpeted floor turned into the foam-y material under her sneakers. As she entered the normally tranquil place, she saw absolute anarchy. The Ker was ripping the kids' computer monitors out of the circular arrangement and tossing them like deadly Frisbees at the soldier-women. The way the monster was ripping them out was like a kid playing with blocks; she was so strong that tossing a desktop computer seemed to take no effort out of her.

In response, the soldier-women would do their best to dodge the makeshift projectiles. Some would succeed and expertly evade the spinning monitors. Others would not be so lucky and would get hit. Any soldier that dared to get too close would be swept away by the Ker's wings. They would fly out the door and into the adult sections. Some soldier-women were perched on top of the children's shelves, shooting arrows that looked like they were forged in moonlight. The arrows would impale the Ker, but it only seemed to aggravate the creature.

Isabelle spotted her bag, now closer to the desk than the window.

_Someone must've tossed it, _she noted. Isabelle scrambled to her bag and tried to find the magical pen. However, she couldn't find it in the ensuing madness. Instead, the large horn toppled out of the bag in her search. Isabelle grabbed it by the wide end and examined it.

With a clap of thunder, there was a blinding flash of light and the creature was blasted away from its post on top of the children's computer area. The Ker landed nearly right in front of Isabelle, about ten feet in front of the window.

Isabelle exhaled.

_One minute. _

She heard the soldiers yell variations of, "Get OUT of there!" and "Someone grab her before she gets herself killed!"

Isabelle's grip on the horn tightened.

This monster was involved in an attack on her mother.

Her mother was in the hospital because of this creature.

This monster ruined her library.

This monster came into _her _workspace and threatened the employees there.

This monster knew where she worked _and _where she lived.

Whether she believed what she was seeing or not, Isabelle knew she was in danger. She needed to get on offense.

Everything moved slowly as Isabelle unleashed a guttural scream that originated from the depths of her core. She felt nothing but pure rage. She sprinted towards the Ker. The monster seemed to be crippled from its last attack; it was having trouble getting up and its skin was smoking.

Isabelle, in her rage, raised the horn and stabbed the Ker in the chest. The Ker wailed out in pain, a loud and horrible sound that would've made Isabelle flinch if she was in her right mind.

Isabelle ripped out the horn and kicked the Ker in the chest, sending it back a few feet. Isabelle stabbed and kicked the Ker again before it could come to. She kicked it one more time until the Ker was right in front of the window. Isabelle backed up a few feet and took a breath. She heard a soldier yell, "NO," before she sprinted and tackled the Ker out the hole in the window that the two of them had made before.

As the two of them freefell, many things happened in those few seconds.

The Ker's wings took flight, and the two went up instead of down.

The Ker grabbed onto Isabelle's arm with a steely grip. For a second, she was holding Isabelle by the wrist as the monster was flying towards the clouds.

Both fighters were screaming. The Ker looked to be screaming out of joy and excitement, once again baring its ugly yellow-black canine teeth in a gruesome laugh. Isabelle's screams were once again lost to the wind, but this time, her screams were not of fear. They were of anger.

Isabelle, with some fiery anger burning through her veins, began to use her strength and agility to climb the Ker. The monster tried to shake her off, but Isabelle held on. She finally got to a point where she was hanging on the Ker like a backpack. Isabelle stabbed the large horn into its shoulder where the wing grew from. She violently carved the horn through the leathery skin until its wing was finally severed. Dark red and green blood spilled onto Isabelle's hands. She was surprised to realize that it was ice cold.

The wing fell to the ground and the flight became erratic and pained. The Ker was flying like a broken roller coaster, falling and gliding uncontrollably.

Isabelle stabbed the Ker in the back of the head, momentarily negating its attempts to save itself. She stabbed it again. And again. And again. And again.

And again.

She stabbed it so many times that she lost count.

Isabelle continued inflicting mortal wounds to the Ker. They did a somersault in the air and a loop as the Ker tried to use its remaining wing to regain flight. However, with one last stab into its head, the Ker stopped struggling.

The two fighters fell. Isabelle, with the horn embedded into the Ker's head, was falling behind the Ker, so if they crashed, Isabelle knew the Ker would take the brunt of the damage.

Their fall was abruptly interrupted when they slammed into the top of Fernando's Toyota. The roof of the car crunched in like it was made of cardboard. All the glass from the car burst out and tinkled onto the ground.

After a few moments, the car's alarm began to sound.

With a bestial shriek, Isabelle scrambled off the Ker. As expected, the Ker had landed onto the roof of the car face down. It wasn't moving. Isabelle, however, turned the monster on its back so she could see its face. The monster seemed dazed, but still alive, like it refused to give Isabelle the satisfaction of dying.

Seeing the Ker still alive made Isabelle explode. She yelled and raised the horn with both hands. She stabbed the Ker in the neck, and brought the horn down its back so she was splitting the monster open. Blood, pus, and other fluids sprayed onto her as she continued the butchering mercilessly. The Ker cried out until it couldn't anymore. Once Isabelle got to its midsection area, the Ker exploded into golden dust, covering the hood of the car.

Isabelle stayed on the top of the beeping car for a second, or a minute, or an hour. She wasn't sure how long she was there. Her back started to finally ache, and she regretted speaking too soon about it not hurting.

The soldiers came around the perimeter of the building and approached her on the car. Isabelle tried to focus on breathing as she tried to comprehend what happened. Her fingers suddenly gave out and the horn tumbled from her hands.

One of the soldiers muttered, "Wow. That was intense."

That was all she needed. Tears began streaming down Isabelle's face like a dam had broken. The air was getting thick again, but this time, the world was spinning. The world was closing in on her, and she couldn't breathe. Isabelle slid off the car and onto the blacktop pavement. She leaned against the car and pulled her knees to her chest.

_Mom. I need you, Mom. Mom, please come here. _Isabelle rocked back and forth and struggled to get a breath in.

The woman that saved her earlier stepped up and took a knee in front of Isabelle. "That was bad-ass, what you did. You just killed a Ker, one of the most intense death-spirits out there. Are you okay? Are you a demigod?"

Isabelle's cries fell silent as she put her head in the nook between her arms and her knees. She felt like she was dying. She was burning up. She simultaneously felt like she was breathing too quickly and that she wasn't able to breathe.

One of the soldier-women chimed in. "Blain, come on. She's hyperventilating. Someone calm her down, please."

One made a _hm _sound. "Does this happen often with mortals?"

Another scoffed. "Girl, after _that display, _you think she's a mortal?"

Isabelle put her head up and whispered in fragments, "Please…stop. Stop it. Please…"

The woman in front of her waved to the group of female soldiers as if to say, _Back up. _She put her hand out to Isabelle. Isabelle looked at it for a second, and then took one of the soldier's fingers.

The woman smiled and put on a soothing voice. "That's it. I'm Blain. I…I like R&B music. I like coloring books. I like tea, especially peppermint tea. I…"

She looked around like she wasn't used to talking about herself. "…I hate hot chocolate. I like reggae music? I guess?"

Isabelle found her breathing again. The streams of tears turned into streaks. Blain continued.

"I like fireworks, but I think they're too loud. I think all movies should have subtitles on them for those who may be deaf or hard-of-hearing. I think that baseball is the dumbest sport in the world. My parents are Eritrean."

Isabelle's breath slowed. She looked up at Blain. In a tiny voice, Isabelle said, "I like reggae too."

Blain gave a wolfish grin and stood. "She's fine, everyone. She's just a bad ass who needed some time to herself."

Isabelle grabbed more than just one finger of Blain's hand; Isabelle grabbed Blain's entire arm and used it to help pull herself up. Blain took a towel from one of her teammates and gave it to Isabelle. Isabelle gratefully took it and wiped her face of the blood. She knew her eyes were red and that her face was probably red too, from embarrassment, but she didn't care.

Blain waited until Isabelle was done wiping to talk. Isabelle could feel all the soldiers' eyes on her. Once she had cleaned herself up, she trained her attention on Blain.

"You can see through the Mist. You killed a Ker with what looks like a Minotaur Horn. You carry a pen-"

Blain handed the pen to Isabelle. "-that turns into a celestial bronze sword upon uncapping, like the sword a famous demigod used to use years ago."

_Did she just say uncap? _

Isabelle uncapped the pen and it exploded once more. However, she didn't drop it. The pen expanded into a golden sword, looking like a celestial blade as it brought in all the sunlight around the area.

Isabelle could hear murmuring among the soldiers as Blain put her hands on her hips. "So, who are you, mystery bad-ass woman? Who is your godly parent?"

Isabelle turned away from the sunshine blade and looked in Blain's eyes. She was about to answer when she heard an, "Isabelle!"

Isabelle and the soldiers turned as Fernando ran up to them, carrying Isabelle's bag. Though out of breath, he held the bag to Isabelle. "Here's…*_ah*_…your bag. You almost forgot."

Then, like Ethel, a surge of energy seem to rush through him. He shot upright and started to look Isabelle over. "Are you okay?! Are you hurt?"

Isabelle shook her head. "I'm fine, Fernando."

One of the soldier-women asked him, "Who are you?"

Fernando turned. "My name is Fernando Marie Lopez. This is Isabelle Johnson. There's nothing super special about us, per se. We just work at the library."

Isabelle would have paid money to see the dumbfounded looks on the soldiers' faces one more time. They all seemed in shock, as if working at the library equated to some bad-ass skills and warrior training. However instead of taking a picture of their faces, Isabelle took the bag and reached inside of it. All eyes were on her as she pulled out the photo album she had reviewed earlier that day.

She flipped to a picture of Percy, Annabeth, Poseidon, and Athena. She then gave it to Blain. "My name is Isabelle Silena Johnson. I was raised by a Rachel Elizabeth Johnson. But, I think that I'm the daughter of a couple named Percy and Annabeth Jackson."

The discomfort in the crowd was palpable.

Blain's jaw hung open as she looked up at Isabelle. "The daughter of…"

One of the soldiers asked, "_The _Annabeth Chase? _The _Percy Jackson?"

Another soldier asked, "Is she a legacy?!"

A smaller soldier put her hands to her mouth. "_The _Annabeth Chase?!"

Isabelle frowned. "I mean, I guess? I think? I don't know who these people were. I never met them while I was old enough to remember."

Blain looked at the picture for a second and looked up at Isabelle. She examined Isabelle for about a few seconds and then looked at the necklace that Isabelle was wearing. Her eyes fell to the sword in Isabelle's hand, and then back to the photo.

Blain took a step back and sighed as if she just received knowledge that Isabelle had a terminal disease. "Yeah, kid, you're definitely a legacy."

Blain turned to one of the soldier-women. "Hunter. Lieutenant Grace should still be Mist-ing the surrounding area. Go grab her please."

Isabelle watched the Hunter figure sprint away, and turned back to Blain. "Lieutenant Grace?"

Blain looked down at the photo album and turned a few pages. "Yeah."

"Who is that?"

Blain stopped turning the photo album pages and showed Isabelle the picture of Annabeth standing next to the woman with the short black hair and light blue eyes.

"You're not only a legacy. Your mother was one of the greatest demigods of all time and your father was one of the greatest warriors of this generation. They were both heroes."

Isabelle's brow furrowed as Blain stepped closer to her and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"You need to meet Thalia."


End file.
